


If Tony Stark Had a Heart

by kadabrafreak890



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Stony - Freeform, Superfamily, Superhusbands, big bang challenge 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 18:38:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2662298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kadabrafreak890/pseuds/kadabrafreak890
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony always figured he'd die before his husband. It was basic math--he was older, not always wiser, and didn't have super soldier serum coursing through his veins. But when Steve begins to redevelop all the health conditions he had before becoming Captain America, Tony knows he's in trouble.</p>
<p>He also realizes he hates making funeral arrangements.</p>
<p>For the Stony Big Bang Challenge 2014, with art by Winterstar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If Tony Stark Had a Heart

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've done the BB Challenge and I'm really glad I did. Been wanting to get this story written for the longest time and this gave me the proper motivation. You can find me on tumblr at TheRubyWriter
> 
> Thanks to Winterstar for the AMAZING art and for being an awesome partner in general. Go check out her fics as well, she deserves much more attention. She's also on tumblr at Winterstar95. 
> 
> Heads up, this story includes: major character death and some sexual content.

It was dysfunctional family movie night—the name deemed as such by Peter—and the whole gang was gathered in the communal living room. Peter was draped over one of the arm chairs, hanging upside down, his feet dangling over the back of it. Tony and Steve occupied the couch, Tony leaning against the arm with his husband between his legs, resting back against his chest. Clint was perched in the other arm chair, Natasha sitting near his feet, and Bruce sat cross-legged in front of the couch.

“Whose poor choice of a movie was this?” Steve asked, wrinkling his nose in disgust and cringing as the party stepped over the line and crossed into the realm of out of control. He felt Tony shake with a silent laugh behind him, but he said nothing. Tony’s hands slid over Steve’s broad shoulders and down his chest, linking together right between his pecs.

“Dad’s. And Clint’s.” Peter said, gasping in horror when the insane man with a _fucking flamethrower_ started brandishing the weapon at people and setting everything around him on fire.

“It’s a great movie.” Clint said, his eyes not leaving the screen where _Project X_ was playing, though he had seen the movie multiple times.

“I would trade Peter to have a party like that.” Tony said without hesitation.

“Hey!” Peter protested, and Natasha reached up from her spot on the floor next Clint and twisted Tony’s ear.

“Oh, hey! Ow, it was a joke! A joke!” Satisfied, she took her hand away and Bruce smirked at her. Tony grumbled to himself and rubbed his ear.

“Tony,” Steve started to say, leaning further back against his husband’s chest. The arc reactor was a pleasant pressure against his slightly sore back muscles. “If you ever threw a party like that—which by the way, would probably damage New York more than it had been after the Chitauri attack—I would divorce you.”

Tony gasped overdramatically. “No you wouldn’t.” He said, and Steve now regretted his joke because he could hear the fear behind the humor.

“I wouldn’t.” Steve reassured him, tipping his head back far enough to look at Tony. His husband finally looked away from the screen and down at him with those chocolate brown eyes that Steve loved so much. He stared at him for a moment before kissing Steve’s forehead and returning his attention to the TV.

“Shh,” Bruce said, waving his hand. He unconsciously leaned closer to the TV. “They’re about to drive the car into the pool.”

* * *

 

“You taste like butter,” Tony murmured into the kiss, pressing Steve harder against the kitchen counter. Steve let him, his hands gripping Tony’s hips and holding him tighter against him, careful to avoid the hot rack of brownies cooling behind them. Steve shuddered a bit when he felt the scratch of Tony’s facial hair against his cheek.

“And you taste like brownies. Despite the fact that I told you I wanted to lick the bowl.” Steve inhaled deeply through his nose, the aroma of almost-ready-to-be-consumed brownies wafting through his nostrils, and kissed Tony some more, trying to slow them down. He swept his tongue through his husband’s mouth, mapping out everything like he had the first time.

“Tough luck Cap’n,” Tony slurred, turning Steve’s slow, gentle kiss into a sloppy one. It was all tongue and teeth and hands everywhere and Steve loved it like this—just not in the kitchen where anyone could walk in. Peter had already had the misfortune of catching his parents in various states of arousal and undress and he would hate for it to happen again. “Although, I have something else I’ll let you lick.” He shoves his hips forward and Lord Almighty, Steve is more than ready to give Tony what he wants(because Steve wants it too), but they’re _in the kitchen._

“Tony…”

“Hey Pops, are the brownies rea…oh _come on!_ Again?” Peter wailed, covering his eyes, and ran from the kitchen. He was screaming like someone had thrown salt in his eyes.

Tony muttered a curse and pulled back, wriggling around in his jeans. “Our child must’ve gotten his cockblocking skills from Clint, because seriously?”

Steve chuckled a little. “I’m pretty sure he doesn’t _enjoy_ walking in on his dads making out.”

“Well then, he should stop doing it,” Tony huffed and folded his arms. Steve rolled his blue eyes and kissed Tony’s nose. His husband glared at him.

“Or maybe we should stop doing things like this in the kitchen.” Steve said.

“Are you suggesting we stop having sex?”

“No. I’m just suggesting that we take it to the bedroom.”

“Now?” Tony arched a dark eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“Yes. Well, after I get a brownie.” He turned around, trying (unsuccessfully) to ignore Tony’s front pressed snug to his back as he cut a brownie. He took a bite and turned back to face his husband, expecting some sort of suggestive face, instead earning himself a worried one.

“What?” Steve asked, swallowing his brownie. He was a great cook.

“Um…your nose is bleeding.” His eyebrows knit together and he handed Steve a paper towel. Steve blinked slowly, dumbly, a few times and held the paper towel against his nose, pulling it back to see a nearly even circle of blood.

“Oh um…” He frowned. “That’s odd.” He dabbed at his nose a few times until the blood flowing had stopped and he tossed the paper towel in the trashcan.

“Steve…”

“No worries, I’m sure it’s nothing. Here.” He fed Tony the rest of his brownie and licked the smudge of fudge off the corner of his mouth. As soon as Steve’s tongue touched Tony’s skin, all his blood went straight south and he shivered in his Steve’s arms.  “So are we heading to the bedroom or what..?” Steve asked, nuzzling Tony’s jawline, his fingers tracing his husband’s erection. Tony jerked into his hand.

“I was wondering why we weren’t there five minutes ago,” he said huskily. He tugged Steve with him to the bedroom, leaving his worried thoughts in the kitchen with the brownies.

* * *

 

Steve was draped over one of two armchairs in the communal living room, charcoal pencil in hand and sketchbook resting comfortably in his lap. He had been sitting in this chair for a solid portion of the afternoon after eating a light lunch of two foot long subs with turkey, lettuce, tomato, pickles, cucumbers, mozzarella cheese, cheddar cheese, and a bit of Swiss (what? He liked cheese).

Normally, he spent his afternoons down in Tony’s workshop while his husband tinkered _(“Steve, I’m not tinkering! Grown men do not tinker!_ ”). But he had been gone for the past few days on assignment—Fury wanted him to go into DC to help with the specs on some new security project. Steve didn’t know the details of the mission since Tony didn’t know any at the time of his departure except for the fact that it was vital in the protection of the human race.

He tried to keep his mind occupied. He took an extra-long run in the morning, asked just about everyone if they could spar with him and even attempted to help Peter with his homework, though most of it looked like a different language to him. Math didn’t look like that back in his day.

The problem was that he could only keep his mind off of his incredibly attractive super genius husband for so long, so he plopped down in the arm chair and started to sketch.

He could totally function without Tony around. Besides, this was only his seventh picture.

“Pops?” Peter poked his head into the living room, smiling when he saw his dad. “Oh hey, you’re in here. I was looking for you.”

“Sorry Pete,” Steve responded, brushing a stray blond lock from his eyes before adding in Tony’s laugh lines ( _“I don’t have laugh lines. Only old people have laugh lines. I’m not old.”)._ Peter walked further into the room and leaned on the back of the chair that Steve was resting in. “I should’ve let you know where I was.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, Pops. It’s not like I had been looking for too long. I just got back from school not too long ago, and Bruce told me where you were.” Peter glanced at his Dad, who was so focused on his drawing that he didn’t notice the strong brown eyes raking over his stern features. “Pops,” he finally said, pressing a thumb between Steve’s eyebrows and massaging. “You look a bit angry.”

Steve blinked a few times and laughed, pushing his son’s hand away. “I should probably take a break.” He flipped his sketchbook closed and placed it with his pencil on the coffee table. “Want to go watch a movie?” He quirked an eyebrow and quickly reached up to run a hand through Peter’s hair. Peter glared at him and pushed him a bit.

“What are you thinking?” Peter asked, sounding sarcastically surprised. “I’ve got homework. I can’t leave important schoolwork for later. Are you feeling alright?” He placed the back of his hand on his Dad’s forehead and pursed his lips. Steve rolled his eyes and batted his hand away.

“Right, of course. What _was_ I thinking?”

“You weren’t. Clearly.” Steve lowered his gaze and gave him his best ‘that’s a little too much lip mister’ and Peter smiled sheepishly at him. “Actually, I’m doing a report. I need to take a look at your shield and I wanted to ask first.”

“No problem.” Steve stood and stretched, his back cracking from his lack of motion for over two hours. “Let’s go.”

They took the elevator to the penthouse and popped into his Dads’ room. Peter waited patiently as his Dad disappeared into the massive closet, coming out with shield in tow. Steve walked slowly over to his son, staring at his shield, eyebrows knit together. He had that wrinkle between them that he had before, when he was drawing.

“What’s up?” Peter asked. He stood at his Dad’s side and his eyes flickered over the shield, trying to locate the problem.

“Does...” Steve’s sentence slowed to a stop. He sounded uncertain, hesitant. “Does my shield look any different to you?” Peter squinted and then widened his eyes. He even tilted his head a bit.

“I don’t think so.”

“It looks like it’s teal and a really ugly mixture of brown and yellow.” Peter frowned.

“No Pop…it’s still red and blue.” Steve stared at it for a moment longer before shaking his head and handing the shield over to his son.

“I must’ve worked on that drawing for too long and strained my eyes.” He rubbed them. “Think maybe I’ll rest for a bit.” He plopped down on the bed, that one piece of blond hair falling in his face again. He didn’t bother to brush it away this time. “I’ll be here if you need me.” Peter ran a hand through his hair, a bit startled at his Dad’s behavior. The shield was clearly the same colors as it had always been.

“Don’t break my shield,” Steve said before Peter crossed the threshold. Peter smiled.

“Not sure I can Pop, it’s Vibranium.”

“Well, between you and your Dad, I wouldn’t be surprised if the next time I pick it up it just falls in two.” Peter threw his head back and laughed, completely forgetting the worry and unease he had harbored mere moments ago.

* * *

 

Steve sidestepped Tony’s swipe at his head easily, blocking his fist and aiming a palm at his shoulder, knocking him off balance. He aimed a low leg sweep at his husband’s stumbling feet, but Tony tucked into a roll, dodging Steve’s leg. He leapt to his feet and put his fists up.

“Gee old man,” he said, humor laced into his words, curling tightly around every letter. “You normally have me pinned by now.” He kept his eyes trained on Steve, constantly moving and gathering info so he could find his opening to strike. “What’s going on?”

“Just giving you a bit of a break,” Steve said, quickly brushing some sweaty hair from his eyes. Tony’s eyes narrowed a bit. They had just started and Steve was sweaty—especially odd since he only _barely_ broke a sweat when sparring with Nat or Thor.

“Why?” Tony noted the sloppiness starting to seep into Steve’s usually near-perfect form. “Do I look extra sexy today?”

Steve grinned. “You always look sexy.” He took this moment to close the distance between himself and Tony, blocking his husband’s punch and using his momentum to swing behind him and pin his arm to his back.

Tony grunted. “Sorry,” Steve said, lips close to Tony’s ear, breathing strangely heavy.

“Don’t apologize. I didn’t stretch enough.” He paused, frowning when the supersoldier’s grip slackened and he felt his husband’s damp forehead press against the back of Tony’s neck. “Need a breather?” He tried to keep the worry out of his voice, but he knew that he hadn’t been very successful.

Steve completely released his hold on Tony and stepped back, giving a little nod. He made his way over to the bench flush against the wall and sat, guzzling some water.

“I can see it in your eyes.” Steve said after wiping away a drop of water that was making its way down his chin.

“What? Your face? I’ve heard that my eyes are very reflective.”

Steve rolled his eyes and the smile he gave Tony made him feel a bit better.

“No, Tony. That you’re concerned.” He patted his forehead with the small towel he had draped around his neck. Tony seated himself next to the blond and opened his mouth to respond, but his husband continued before he could. “Don’t be. Just got a bit winded.”

“But you never get winded.”

“Yeah I do.”

“Oh?” A dark eyebrow raised, challengingly. “When?”

“In bed.” Steve’s raised eyebrow was suggestive and Tony threw his head back and laughed.

“Well of course. That’s because I’m amazing at what I do. But that’s the only time.”

“Quit worrying,” Steve said. His large hand slid down Tony’s thigh to squeeze his knee. “Think I’m done sparring for now. I’m going to hop in the shower.” He stood and headed in the direction of the elevator, stopping short and cocking his head. “Join me?”

“Why is that even a question?” Tony hopped up from the bench and jogged to follow Steve towards the elevator, pinching his ass as he passed. “Last one in the shower is the first to give a blowjob.” He mashed the elevator button and continued to press it, though he knew full well that the elevator wasn’t going to run any faster.

“Is that supposed to be some sort of punishment?” Steve followed his husband into the elevator when it arrived. He wrapped an arm around Tony’s waist when he sagged against him and groaned.

“Ah shit. Should’ve done some post workout stretching. Ouch.”

Steve laughed.

* * *

 

Steve and Tony went to bed fairly early that night—not too surprising considering that Steve had given his husband plenty of exercise before and during their shower. They slid between the sheets and Tony curled into Steve’s side, falling asleep nearly instantly, though he knew that the genius would likely dispute this fact later.

The blond smiled at the engineer curled into his side, lips moving with equations unspoken, and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, expecting to follow him into a restful sleep soon. The next time he glanced at the clock, however, it was 3:00 in the morning. It had been nearly two hours since he and Tony had been to bed and he hadn’t yet fallen asleep, which was definitely strange for him.

He thought that maybe a run would be enough to tire him out, so he carefully disentangled his husband from around him and slid out of bed. He tugged some shorts on over his boxers and pulled on a plain white t-shirt.

Steve left their room, closing the door softly behind himself. He made his way down the hall, passing the living room and Peter’s room on his way to the elevator. He stopped, though, when he noticed a gentle yellow glow squeezing through the crack under his son’s door.

He rapped on the door softly before opening it. Peter lay atop his bed, one hand resting behind his head, the other gripping the TV remote tightly to flip through the channels.

“Hey,” Peter said, raising his eyebrows. Both of his parents were normally asleep by this time.

“Can’t sleep?”

“Nah.” He responded, tossing the remote back on the bed. “What about you? You and Dad are normally knocked out by now. You old geezers.” Steve rolled his eyes at the jest.

“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep. Gonna go for a quick run.” He glanced at the television and then at his son. “Go to bed. You’ve got school tomorrow.” Peter gave his dad a small smile.

“Been trying Pops. Enjoy your run. Be careful.”

“Will do Pete. Love you.” He stepped out of the room and pulled the door shut, sighing a little. He wasn’t quite sure what it was, but these days, something just felt…off.

* * *

 

Steve draped his body over his husband’s, his knees sinking into the plush mattress, and pressed a soft kiss to his neck, under his jaw. Tony hummed in appreciation, his work-rough hands skimming down Steve’s bare back to come to rest on his ass.

The fact that Steve was so much stronger than him was a (not so) secret kink of his. Steve could easily accidentally hurt him in bed, but long ago, Tony put his trust in Steve and knew that he would never do that. Every once in a while, though, he loved it when Steve lost a bit of his control, pinning him down to the bed and going to town. One time, he left a nice sized hand print on his shoulders from gripping him so hard when Tony told him to “really give it to him.”

“Pete’s at school.” Tony mumbled. He squeezed his husband’s ass and tried to coax him closer. He wanted to feel all of that All-American muscle pushing him into the mattress. The brunet was pleasantly surprised at his ability to form those three words—it was a bit hard to think when the equivalent of Adonis was naked on top of you with a large thigh slotted between your legs.

“Mmmm,” was Steve’s only response, which made sense given that he was a bit busy working on leaving a sizeable mark just below where Tony’s shirt collar would stop. The blond did that a lot actually—leaving subtle reminders that Tony was his and only his. The most common form was leaving marks that were barely visible above whatever clothing his husband was wearing. Any other time, though, he’d have an arm wrapped tightly around Tony’s waist, a hand on his shoulder, finger tracing around his knee.

“So I think we should…ah. Okay, wow, you know exactly what I was…oh. Yes. Yup. Yeah. Perfect.” Steve smiled against the skin of Tony’s upper thigh.

“Shhh,” he said, tapping Tony’s ankle lightly with two fingers, prompting him to spread his legs further.

“Got it. Shutting up now. Jesus Christ Steve…” Tony squeezed his eyes shut and pushed his head back into the pillow as his wonderful, _wonderful_ husband worked his magic. His hands found that gorgeous head of hair and he gripped it hard, trying his best not to shove him down further.

* * *

 

Peter was holed up in his room, cramming for a massive History test that he had put off studying for, as per usual. Tony and Steve granted him the peace and quiet that he required and decided to not waste the semi-alone time that they had. Limbs wound snugly around each other, the couple was lying on their black leather couch, watching _Monty Python and the Holy Grail._ Tony had nearly fallen off of Steve and onto the floor laughing when he saw King Arthur come over the hill, banging coconuts together to make the oh-so-familiar _clop-clop_ rather than riding an actual horse.

While the Black Knight contested his ability to fight with no arms, Tony nuzzled into Steve’s neck, humming when his husband’s arms tightened around him just a fraction. “Falling asleep on me?”

“’Course not,” was Steve’s response, slow and lazy, the exact opposite of how he was trying to sound.

“Mmm, sure big guy.” He pressed a gentle kiss to Steve’s jaw before nipping at the skin, startling him.

"Tony," Steve said quietly, fingers slipping beneath the edge of his husband's loose t-shirt and feeling along the muscles there. "You do realize that doing that is going to make me pay more attention to you and less to the movie, right? Also, I'm pretty sure that Peter would not appreciate walking in on his dads lip-locked and or partially naked again."

"That's his own fault for walking into rooms that we’re currently occupying.” Tony doesn't cease his ministrations on Steve's jaw and neck and Steve allows his eyes to flutter shut.

"Every time he walks in on us, it's because we're in a public room in the Tower. It's really not fair to anyone else." At this, Tony finally pulled back.

"It is completely unfair, you're right. Unfair to us. I mean, am I really expected to not make out with you when we're in the same room? Has anyone else seen how hot you are?"

"Tony." Steve sounded exasperated, embarrassed, and annoyed all at one time, and few people possessed the skill to convey so many things with only one word.

"Fine, fine." Tony sat up, now straddling Steve's waist, smirking when he feels his reward for leaving soft kisses on his husband.

"No," Steve said, once he noticed Tony's devilishly handsome smirk and Tony throws his hands up in surrender.

"I said fine before, I mean it." He grinned and smoothed down Steve's hair. "Really though, you look a little beat. You alright?"

"Fine." Steve's eyes were still closed and his grip on Tony's waist had slackened a bit. Tony continued to glance him over, noticing that his breathing was slowing a bit and there were beads of sweat on his forehead. Also, there was a light flush to his cheeks, but not because of the brief activity they had just engaged in. Tony knew that flush too well and this was not it.

"Steve, babe, I'm not kidding. If you don't feel well, you need to let me know. Like, right now."

"Seriously Tony," Steve replied, a bit angrily, finally opening his eyes. "I'm fine, let it drop. Weren't we watching a movie?"

" _I_ was watching a movie," Tony grumbled, but settled back against Steve anyway, turning his attention back to the movie.

* * *

 

The end credits began to scroll across the screen and JARVIS stopped the movie before Tony had a chance to open his mouth.

He had taught his AI well.

"Hey Steve, what'd you think of the movie?" Tony, ear still pressed to his husband's soft yet somehow still firm chest, waited for a response. When he didn't receive one in a suitable amount of time, he pulled back.

Steve's eyebrows were knit together in pain, sweat now creeping into his hairline. How Tony hadn't noticed, he wasn't sure, but his chest was heaving with the effort to suck air into his lungs. His hand that covered his eyes was shaking a little.

"Shit Steve, what the hell is wrong?"

"I just..." Steve trailed off, for a moment not wanting to cause his husband the worry but quickly realizing that he already had. "I feel really faint." He puffed out a breath. "Not sure why. I was fine earlier." He paused and then groaned. “My head is pounding.”

"When did you last eat?" Tony asked, already hopping off Steve in preparation for an emergency run to the kitchen.

"Dunno." Steve's voice was weak. He licked his lips. "Breakfast maybe. Lost track of time. Was busy."

"Jesus, who knew I was married to a child who couldn't feed himself." Tony turned in the direction of the kitchen but before he could actually start moving that way, a hand around his wrist stopped him.

"I thought that's what I was supposed to say to you?"

"Yeah, well, tables are turned and all that. Shut up, conserve energy. I'll be right back." Tony ran to the kitchen and popped open the fridge, looking for something to heat up to sustain Steve long enough for him to get a proper meal into his stomach. When his brown eyes fell onto Nat's left over stir fry from earlier, he briefly contemplated if he enjoyed living, but figured that Nat would give him a pass this once. Steve's health was on the line.

He snatched up the container and tossed it in the microwave for a few minutes, grabbing a bottle of water and jogging back to the living room where Steve was currently pressing his face into the fabric of the couch.

"Hey handsome, sit up. Come drink some of this water. I've got some stir fry on its way."

"Nat's stir fry?" Steve sat up and took the now open bottle of water, guzzling half of it and giving his husband an appreciative smile.

"Yep. I'm risking my life for you, you'd better appreciate it."

"You risk your life every time we step onto the battlefield." Steve said, hand curling around Tony's knee. Tony moved his hand to cover Steve's, thumb moving over his wedding band. The microwave beeped faintly in the background.

"Yeah, but we risk our lives for each other since we're out there at the same time. Not just the two of us, but Bruce, Nat, Clint and Thor too. We're a team remember?" Even now, even five years later, saying the word team when referencing the Avengers still tugged a bit at his heart.

"How could I forget?" Tony patted Steve's hand and ran back to the kitchen, grabbing the stir fry and a fork and coming back to Steve with it. "Here. Eat. And don't do this again."

"Aye aye Captain."

"Why is it that I'm the only one who gets a taste of your sass?"

"Because you get to taste the rest of me too?" Steve's response came out like a question, but it made Tony laugh anyway. He shoved the food into Steve's arm, fork protruding from the container.

"Eat it blondie." Steve complied and Tony pressed long (albeit worried) kiss to Steve' forehead before he migrated back to the kitchen to fix his husband a real meal.

* * *

 

Tony had hopped in the shower with Steve to make sure he didn’t fall and break his gorgeous face after the whole ‘near faint’ debacle. There was no funny business this time, though. Afterwards, the two slipped under the covers and it took all of five minutes for Steve to fall asleep. Tony smoothed his husband’s wet hair down and kissed his temple before taking the elevator down to his science pal’s lab.

"Bruce, something is up with Steve." Tony said as he walked in, paying absolutely no mind to the possibly explosive and hazardous chemicals Bruce was working with. Luckily, Bruce was used to these sorts of interruptions and he paused his work, quickly and carefully tucking away his chemicals.

"Please tell me you're not talking about what I think you're talking about." Bruce asked and Tony could see the way his hand flexed briefly as they rolled up the sleeves of his lab coat.

"If you think I’m talking about his dick, you’d be wrong. Well, I mean, we could talk about that, but that probably would be a conversation you'd rather not have."

"You'd probably be right." Bruce scribbled some notes into the corner of his spiral notebook, not bothering with the StarkTablet Tony had gotten for him last Christmas. He did use it, yes, just not for taking notes on his experiments. He preferred doing that by hand. "What's wrong with him?" Tony plopped himself down on one of Bruce’s stools, suddenly looking exhausted. He scrubbed his hands over his face and then rubbed at his eyes.

Bruce’s own eyes skittered over his friend, surveying his condition. There were bags under his eyes, a good three shades darker than they had been in a long time. Steve was generally successful in keeping Tony on track with food and adequate sleep. Tony’s hands were shaking too, Bruce noticed, as his fingers picked further at the hole in the knee of his old sweatpants.

“Well, when we were working out the other day, he got winded in exactly seven minutes. I know, JARVIS told me. He almost never gets winded. Even after a long battle, he’s just a bit sweaty and tired but he’s not struggling to breathe. Even after we have a good, long fu—”

“’Kay, got it.” Bruce said, cutting him off with a frantic hand in the air. “That is odd. And this just came on suddenly?” He nudged his glasses up his nose with a knuckle.

“Seems so.” Bruce flipped a few pages deeper into his notebook and wrote a few more things down.

“Anything else?”

“I think he almost passed out yesterday.” Once of Bruce’s eyebrows shot up above the rim of his glasses. He folded his arms across his chest, inadvertently covering the logo of the atom on his t-shirt.

“You think?”

“Well, we were hanging out and watching a movie and after we finished, he said he felt faint and that he had a headache. He told he me hadn’t eaten since breakfast.”

“Well that doesn’t seem like too much cause for alarm. His metabolism runs three to four times faster than ours. He needs more food and he needs it more often to be able to keep up his energy and strength.”

“I know Brucie Bear, but this was different. I’m not sure how, but it was.” Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and Bruce didn’t think he had ever seen Tony this concerned. “I know Steve.” He said, looking up at Bruce, hands shaking more as they clasped themselves together. “And I know that this was different. Something is wrong.”

“Okay.” Bruce clasped a hand onto Tony’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “ I’ll see if I can look into it.”

* * *

 

Tony and Steve collapsed into bed together, bodies pressed close, legs tangled together. Tony loved the way his husband was pressing him into the mattress and he nipped at Steve’s bottom lip to show his appreciation. Steve groaned and the sound traveled its way through his chest and reverberated through Tony’s as well.

“How are we doing this?” Tony asked, hands clawing at Steve’s shoulders. Steve dragged his teeth slowly along Tony’s jaw and then down his jugular, making him shudder. That was one (of apparently many) sweet spots that Steve had discovered on his husbands work-toned body.

“However you want.” Came Steve’s response, hands sliding down Tony’s chest and halting at the button of his old jeans. “I want you to do whatever you want.” Steve’s blue eyes caught Tony’s brown ones, flush high on his cheeks but expression firm and unwavering.

“Jesus.” Tony breathed. “I will never understand how I managed to snag you.” Steve smiled.

“You didn’t need to snag me,” Steve responded, fingers slowly undoing Tony’s jeans and dragging down the zipper. He made sure to put pressure on the bulge beneath the denim as he did so, and Tony groaned low in his chest. “I was already here.”

Tony couldn’t help but laugh. “You and this sentimental sappy shit. For some reason, it always seems to come out now, of all times.” He cupped Steve’s jaw and ran his thumb across his husband’ lips. “Hurry up and get my pants off.” Tony gave Steve a hand by wriggling around and his jeans and boxers soon decorated the floor, Steve’s joining his mere seconds later.

“Grab the lube and lay on your back, hot stuff.” Tony said and Steve complied with military speed and precision. Tony groaned. “Sexy.”

One of Steve’s large hands wrapped around the back of Tony’s neck, fingers  curling into the hair at his nape and pulling him down for a filthy kiss. Lots of tongue and teeth—just the way Tony liked it when they were in bed like this. “C’mon.” Steve’s voice has dropped an octave or two. Lust has curled it way into his voice and Tony couldn’t look away as Steve licked his lips. “Hurry up.”

“Yes sir.” Tony popped the cap on the lube and prepared Steve as he peppered kisses all over Steve’s body—the parts he could reach anyway. He wasn’t as flexible as he used to be, as much as it pained him to admit.

He loved (he always did) the gasp he wrung from his husband when he tweaked his fingers within Steve and bit down on a nipple at the same time.

“Tony.” Steve sounded wrecked. His hands clutched at the sheets beneath him, knuckles white.

“Shh. I’ve got you.” Tony slicked himself up and pushed in. He draped himself over Steve and knotted their fingers together. His tongue poked out to lick at Steve’s neck, already dotted in sweat, still tasting a bit like Irish Spring from the shower they had taken together earlier. Steve’s hands moved from the sheets to Tony’s shoulders and he whimpered into Tony’s neck.

“More.” Tony felt the word against his skin, barely there, but he still felt it. His fingers squeezed Steve’s hand harder and he set a steady but fast pace. His husband moaned beneath him, legs locked around his waist. Tony could feel Steve’s chest heaving against his own—a bit unusual seeing as Steve was only ever slightly breathless at the end of their antics, but Tony was too far gone to notice.

He could feel his orgasm building in the pit of his gut and he bit Steve’s shoulder, moving a bit faster. Steve’s hands unwound from his own and gripped Tony’s shoulders, hard. The engineer gasped in pain, nerves firing through his body and simply urging him on. He snapped his hips a few more times. So close…oh so close.

Suddenly, Steve wasn’t under him anymore. The bed wasn’t under him anymore either. He was on the floor.

“What the fuck?” Tony clambered back onto the bed, his chest constricting when he saw the current expression on his husband’s face.

Steve was flushed red down his stomach and his hands were back to gripping at the sheets as he gasped for air. Literally gasped for it, like he wasn’t able to hold it in. Like he was back in that ice cold ocean and whenever he tried to breathe all he sucked in was water.

“Steve, babe.” Tony was next to him in an instant, hands gently cupping his jaw, tilting his chin up a bit to open his airway some more. “Look at me, honey. Please.” Steve’s eyes that had been closed snapped open and looked at Tony, filled with fear. “Breathe, Steve, I need you to breathe. Try and take slow breaths.”

He could see the muscular blond attempting to slow his uneven and frantic breathing, eyes shutting again. Tony leaned down closer and whispered encouraging words in his ear and it wasn’t until nearly two minutes later (Tony counted) that Steve’s breathing was back to normal.

Tony slid off of the bed, the now forgotten tube of lube falling to the floor, and went to fetch a glass of water for Steve. He came back moments later and sat back down next to him. He helped Steve sit up and handed him the water, watching carefully as he gulped it down.

The couple sat in silence for quite a while, Tony still listening to the sounds of his husband’s slightly ragged breathing and hoping that JARVIS had started recording when things went south because he would most definitely be looking into this later.

“What the fuck happened?” Tony would’ve censored himself, but this situation warranted cursing. Steve took a moment to answer, his hand curling back into Tony’s before he did.

“I couldn’t breathe all of a sudden.”

“Why?”

“I have no idea.” Steve shrugged, looking exhausted. He took another deep breathe, slow to exhale. “I’m sorry.”

Tony’s eyebrows shot up. “For what?”

“I ruined sex.”

Tony couldn’t stop the scoff that tumbled from his lips. “Steve, babe, shut up. Your health is more important than any and all hot sex we have. It’s not fun for either of us if you pass out during it.”

“We could try again, if you want to.” Steve gestured to Tony’s now flaccid dick and Tony shook his head.

“Don’t even think about it. You might actually choke on my dick and that wouldn’t be fun at all. Here, c’mon. Time for bed.” Steve followed without argument, probably because almost dying tended to sap your energy.

The two slipped under the slightly damp covers and JARVIS dimmed the lights for them. Tony wasn’t often the big spoon, but he scooted up behind Steve and plastered himself to his back, pressing a kiss to the nape of his neck.  Steve, grateful for such a caring husband even though he sometimes pretended not to be, slid his hand into Tony’s and held them both to his chest.

* * *

 

“Hey pops,” Peter said, greeting Steve and throwing himself onto the couch cushion next to him. His dad ruffled his stylish messy brown hair (so much like Tony’s hair) and Peter scowled.

“How was school?”

“All right,” Peter answered, straight-faced. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but didn’t. Steve thought about asking, but Peter usually came to him on his own accord when he wanted to talk about something—he’d leave it be for now.

“Where’s Dad? I want to show him something.”

“Dad’s right here.” Tony appeared at the top of the stairs that led to his lab, wiping his greasy hands on his equally as greasy rag. He stepped into the living room, smoothing down Peter’s hair and kissing the top of his head as he passed. His hands found their way to Steve’s perfect hair, mussing it up as he made his way around the back of the couch.

“No kiss for me?” Steve said, catching his arm and pouting. Tony smirked and leaned down to kiss his husband, his hand resting on the side of Steve’s cheek, his wedding band glinting in the sunlight. Peter feigned gagging.

“Ew.Okay, ew. If you two don’t stop, neither of you get to see what I did in school today.” The two pulled apart and this time Tony was pouting. Steve patted the genius’ cheek and grinned, right before pulling him over the back of the couch to lie next to Steve. He yelped as he went over.

“So what’s up Pete?” Tony asked his adopted son, tangling his fingers with his husbands’. He was laying upside down on the plush black leather, his dirty boots hanging over the back. His face was starting turn red with all the blood rushing to his head, but he didn’t seem to mind. “Did you get another A+++ on a Physics project?”

“Nah,” Peter grinned. “Well, I’m sure I did, but I haven’t gotten the grade for that back yet.” Peter and Tony were so similar that sometimes Steve forgot that that Peter wasn’t biologically theirs. “Got an A+++ on something else.” He pulled a piece of paper from his backpack and handed it to Steve, who glanced it over.

“Wow Peter, you got a 97 on your WWII paper? That’s amazing!”

“No big deal, especially since one of my dad’s fought in that war.” Peter grinned and Steve smiled back at him. “Should’ve gotten 100, but I don’t have much patience with proofreading.”

“A 97 isn’t an A+++ Pete,” Tony said bluntly and Steve slapped his closest available body part—his thigh. Tony’s eyes darkened a bit. “You are quite welcome to do that again.”

Peter made a face. “Okay, gross.” Tony laughed.

“I’m kidding. Nice work squirt. I wouldn’t even have enough patience to sit down and write the essay, let alone proofread it.”

“Dad,” Peter sighed, smiling but sounding slightly irritated. “I’m nearly 17, you can’t call me a squirt anymore.”

“You’re my son, therefore I may call you whatever I want. Squirt.” He grinned.

“Pops, tell dad to stop calling me squirt.”

“Tony, don’t call Peter a squirt.” He raised his eyebrows challengingly.

“Can I call you a squirt?” Steve sighed.

“No Tony.”

“Are you sure? Because last night, you sure seemed—”

“Okay!” Peter said loudly, snatching his essay from Steve and grabbing up his backpack. “I’ve got homework. I’ll see you two sickos for dinner.” He stuck his tongue out before he left the living room and disappeared down the hall.

“Good, he’s gone. Kiss me for real now.” Tony smiled and Steve rolled his eyes before pulling Tony upright and pressing their lips together. Tony’s head was already spinning, probably because he sat up too fast after lying upside down for so long, but he liked to think it was because his husband was an amazing kisser. Tony hummed his appreciation into the kiss, maneuvering to straddle Steve’s waist and wrap his arms around his neck. His husband’s hands pressed firmly into Tony’s lower back and Tony licked his way into Steve’s mouth.

And then Steve coughed…while kissing Tony.

“Um…that was kind of gross.”

Steve flushed. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to do that. I, um…”

Tony cocked his head and narrowed his eyes slightly. “I would hope you didn’t mean to cough into my mouth. Something’s been up with you lately. Are you feeling okay?” His voice softened a bit, the corners of his mouth turned down.

“Yes. Tony, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? Because that cough didn’t sound fine.” Steve opened his mouth to say something, but Peter’s voice drowned him out.

“Dad, can you help me with physics?” Peter’s voice sounded distant from down the hall—he had his own room on Tony’s floor.

“Steve, I…”

“He’s coming Pete!” Steve gave him a look and nudged Tony out of his lap.

“I’m fine. Now go help our son with physics, you know I’m no good at that stuff.” Tony’s frown deepened.

“Dad, stop kissing Pops! I would appreciate your help now!” Tony sighed.

“We’re not done talking about this.” Tony said and Steve nodded once, pecking his lips and pushing Tony out of the room.

* * *

 

“So I was thinking that maybe…” Peter trailed off and glanced at his dad, who was drumming his fingers on the corners of Peter’s desk. “You’re not even paying attention.”

“Hm?” Tony’s eyebrows raised.

“Dad, if you don’t want to stay and help, all you had to do was say so.”

“No, I don’t! I mean, I don’t want to not stay! Shit, double negative.  Jesus.” Tony rubbed at his eyes. “English never was my strong suit. I just…I think your dad is getting sick.”

Peter frowned. “What are you talking about? Pops can’t get sick.”

Tony nodded solemnly. “I know but…” He went silent, and scrubbed his hand through his messy hair.

“You’re really worried,” Peter said softly, realization dawning on him. He set his StarkTablet down on his desk.

“Look Pete, don’t worry about it. I’m sure dad is fine. It’s probably just some weird virus.”

“Dad.” Peter’s entire tone of voice had changed, sounding suddenly worried and scared. Tony draped his arm across Peter’s shoulders, pulling him into his side. “I want to believe that you’re right, but Pops has been acting weird lately.” Tony pulled back a little, eyes blinking rapidly.

“What do you mean acting weird? Weird how?” Peter sat back in his chair, folding his arms and glancing down at his sock-clad feet, purposefully avoiding his dad’s eyes. He knew what they looked like when Tony got like this—accusatory. They always looked that way even if the person he was looking at wasn’t the one he was accusing.

“When you were in DC, I asked Pop to borrow his shield so I could look at it for a project. He got it for me, but before he handed it over he asked me if it looked…different.”

“Did Clint do something with it?” Tony said, voice softening into something like relief.

“That’s the thing Dad. He didn’t. The shield looked like it always has—red and blue with the white star in the middle. But Pop said it seemed like it was a mix of teal and a spicy mustard color.” Peter curled his fingers into the fabric of his sweatpants. “He wrote it off, saying that he had just been drawing for too long, but something changing colors completely?” Peter dared to look back up at his dad and wished he hadn’t. Rather than looking accusatory, though, his eyes were unfocused.

He looked lost.

“If something was wrong with Pops, you’d tell me, right?”

“Of course Peter,” Tony said immediately. “Of course.”

* * *

 

“So are you going to tell me what this whole cough thing was about?” Tony dropped onto the couch, putting his feet up on the arm and resting his head in Steve’s lap.

“I coughed,” Steve said nonchalantly. One of his hands slid up to rest on his husband’s chest and Tony’s hand joined his, linking their fingers. “What is there to talk about?”

“You don’t…I’m not…” Tony growled in annoyance, flinging his free arm around. “Steve you need to cut the crap and tell me what the hell is going on!”

“I don’t know,” Steve finally answered with a sigh. Tony could feel him shaking.

“What do you mean?” Tony asked, squeezing Steve’s hand. Steve seemed terrified and that was worrying him beyond belief.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” he repeated again, closing his eyes. “Something doesn’t feel right, and I don’t know what it is. It’s getting difficult for me to work out to my usual standards, sometimes my vision gets fuzzy, colors change…drastically.” He swallowed hard and shit, Tony could hear it. “I’m sore pretty much all the time. I get winded just walking around and—”

“Steve,” Tony’s voice was barely above a whisper, but his husband’s sentence still slowed to a stop. “Okay Steve. Hey Cap, look at me.” Steve slowly opened his eyes. “We’re going to figure this out together. Okay?” He nodded, giving Tony a small smile. “We’re in this together. Always.” Steve’s smile grew.

“I love you, Tony.” Tony smiled back.

“I love you, too, Steve.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Now, why don’t you go to bed with me?”

* * *

 

When they got to the bedroom, Tony could tell that Steve was too emotionally and physically exhausted for any funny business. He ran a hot bath with some bubbles (real men took bubble baths) and watched Steve strip and settle into the water. The tension in his body bled out as soon as he was submerged in the water and a small, content smile graced his features.

Tony turned to leave once he looked settled, but his husband’s voice stopped him.

“Join me?” The two words made Tony remember the conversation they had in the gym a few days ago and he grinned.

“Why is that even a question?” He slowly removed his clothes and sat in the tub opposite Steve, groaning quietly when he slipped into the water. “I love it when I have great ideas,” Tony said and Steve laughed.

“Come here.” Steve took his hand and tugged a bit, trying to coax him over to his side of the impressively large tub.

“No, you get over here. Let me wash your hair. You know you like that.”

“Indeed I do.” Steve moved, situating himself between Tony’s legs, hands squeezing gently at his husband’s knees.

“Hand me the shampoo please.” Steve tossed it back to his husband, biting his lip to hold in his laugh when he accidentally hit Tony in the forehead. He kissed it better and leaned back into Tony’s touch when he started to wash his hair.

Tony’s hands were most definitely one of Steve’s favorite things about his husband’s body. They were rough and calloused from all the work on his bots and suits yet so dexterous. It’s like his fingers knew the map to Steve’s body without his brain even having to think it through. They skated gently across his scalp, massaging and scratching, sometimes moving down to dig his thumbs into Steve’s tense shoulders. He’d rub in circular motions until Steve sagged underneath him and then he’d go back to the blond locks, shampooing them thoroughly like it was his job.

“Your hands are magical.” Steve mumbled, eyes fluttering shut.

“I know.” Tony responded and Steve could hear the smile in his voice. He nudged Steve with his thigh. “Hey, don’t fall asleep on me. Do you know how much work it’d be to get your heavy ass out of the bathtub and to the bed?”

“A lot.” Steve answered, sighing a little. He sunk a little further down into the tub, drifting deeper into sleep. “Ouch! Hey!” Steve suddenly sat back up, wide awake, rubbing at his shoulder.

His husband just _bit him._

“I told you not to fall asleep on me.” He turned to see Tony’s cheeky grin and he flipped around in the tub, kissing Tony fiercely. Tony moaned into his mouth, hands finding Steve’s hips and gripping hard. “ _Jesus,_ Steve.”

Steve bit Tony’s lip, slightly harder than he meant to, and Tony whimpered. “Thank you for washing my hair Tony,” he said when he pulled back, brushing his thumb over his husband’s kiss-swollen lips. He stood, smirking when he saw Tony’s eyes skitter to a stop between Steve’s legs before they found his face. “I’m going to wash it out in the shower.”

“I uh...yeah.” Tony gulped. “ You’re welcome.”

“I love you.” Steve stepped out of the tub and towards the shower.

“Right. Yes. Love you too.” Steve bit back a grin and started the shower.

* * *

 

Tony, encased in his Iron Man armor, banked around a corner, hugging the wall of the MetLife building as a familiar red, white, and blue object zinged past his helmet.

“Hey Cap,” he called into the comms as he extended a palm and vaporized the slimy monster thing—Dere he reminded himself, Thor had once told them a story— in front of him. “Watch where you’re slinging that shield of yours.

“Sorry, Iron Man.” Steve replied, not sounding sorry at all. “Careful, on your six.” Tony whipped around, making quick work of the Dere.

“Romanoff, please tell me that you and Legolas are close by.”

“Keep your armor on, we’re nearly there. Thought you and the hubby had things under control.”

“Well, we do but it’d be nice if we could finish this fight a bit quicker so Cap and I can debrief. And by debrief, I of course mean I will be de-briefing Steve. Unless of course he’s already—”

“ _Iron Man.”_ Steve said, swiftly cutting Tony off. “Focus.”

“I am focusing.” Tony made a quick landing next to Steve—that corny one knee down pose that Steve was so fond of—and pinched his backside before taking off again.

“On the battle!”

“So not your ass?” Tony puffed out a dramatic sigh. “Fine. Sir yes, sir.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice if for one battle, just one, I didn’t have to hear Tony making lewd passes at Steve over the comms?” Tony could hear the eye roll in Clint’s voice.

“Get over it,” Nat said, her voice putting an end to the distracting conversation. “Hey, we’re here. Cap, where do you want us?”

“Okay,” Steve said, all business, and damn, Tony would never stop thinking that his husband’s Captain America voice was sexy as hell. “Clint, I need you on roofs, calling out patterns and trying to spot weaknesses. Nat, I need you on the ground with me. Tony, keep an eye out for where these bastards are coming from and when you figure it out, put a stop to them.

“Got it babe.” Tony swooped down, slowing a bit so he wouldn’t dislocate Clint’s shoulder as he plucked him off the street.

“Pet names too?”

“I will drop you.” Tony threatened and Clint snapped his mouth shut. Tony dropped him off on top of an apartment building and dove back into the fray.

The comms went eerily quiet for a bit save for the sounds of the battle going on in the background and then Natasha spoke up again, her voice a bit tight.

“Heads up, these guys spit acid. And it hurts like a bitch, so it’s probably a good idea to avoid that.”

Well fuck.

“Catch that Cap?”

“Yep.” A pause. “Oh hell, caught it all alright. Shit, that hurts.”

“Careful,” Tony warned, swinging down the next street and blasting a few aliens hanging off of fire escapes.

“Tony, did you locate the source of these guys?” Steve asked and Tony didn’t like the way his voice sounded. A bit breathless and pinched—like he was in pain.

“Still working on it.”

“Work a little faster,” Steve said and when Tony flew past him, he saw Steve clutching at his side. Tony’s eyebrows bunched together beneath his helmet.

“Trying.”

“TinMan, I think I see the place those bastards are coming from. Swing down 7th and it’s the third manhole you’ll get to.

“Gracias, bird brain.” Tony vaporized a Dere that Steve failed to see as he flipped around and flew the opposite direction. JARVIS honed in on the manhole and activated x-ray vision, and lo and behold, there was some sort of device underground that they were slithering out of.

“Cap, I’ve got sight. I’m going in.”

“Be careful.”

“Always am.” Tony touched down next to the manhole, vaporizing those that were slithering out of it. He tore the manhole cover off and managed to drop down into the manhole cover, fitting just barely. JARVIS lit his way and soon he stumbled upon the device that seemed to be producing a portal allowing the Dere to slip their way into Earth. He told JARVIS to take careful notes of the device and upload a 3D model to his memory so Tony could study it later, and then destroyed it.

“Tony?”

“Got it.” Tony made his way out of the sewer’s and back to Cap’s location, touching down next to him and retracting the face plate. “Hey,” he said, eyes soft with concern as he looked at the hole in his husband’s Kevlar. There was a nasty burn on his side but Steve cupped his hand over it before he could get a better look at him.

“C’mon guys,” Clint said, sitting on the edge of the building, legs dangling over the side. “Let’s go home.”

* * *

 

“Do we have to go Tony?” Steve looked like he wanted to keep his rear firmly planted on the couch the whole day.

“Yes, Steve,” Tony replied, grabbing his husband’s hand and tugging him off the furniture. “Look, I know how you feel about SHIELD and trust me, I don’t like them any more than you do. But they have actual doctors and not just a super genius scientist husband. And the fact that your burn isn’t getting any better is making me really nervous.” He smoothed his hands down the front of Steve’s gray button-up, his fingers taking their time when skimming over Steve’s abs.

“Can’t you just have JARVIS run some tests?” Tony gave him a wry smile and Steve could see straight through him—and he could tell exactly how worried his husband was.

“Already did. Sorry about not asking first, but not sorry. I didn’t want to worry you further without a reason and see how much good that did me…”

“Tony!” Steve said, grabbing Tony’s biceps and shaking him a little, effectively halting his rant.

“JARVIS doesn’t have a clue.” Tony said, tossing his arms up. He didn’t look Steve in the eye as he spoke. “And JARVIS always has at least a fucking clue! God, I just…” He trailed off, muttering. Steve looked closer at Tony—the bags under his eyes were darker than they had been in a long while and his normally perfectly styled facial hair was scruffy. He scrubbed his hands over his face and for the first time in 10 years Steve had known his husband, he looked his age.

“Can we just go? Please?” Tony was pleading with Steve, desperate. “So someone call tell me that my husband is going to be okay?” He huffed out a shaky breath and Steve’s heart twisted in his chest—he gathered Tony up in a hug.

“Everything is going to be okay, Tony.”

“Are _you_ going to be okay?” Tony asked, his voice muffled in Steve’s shirt. His voice was unsteady, but his question clearly demanding an answer.

Steve wasn’t sure he could give an honest one, so he kept quiet and hugged Tony harder.

* * *

 

Steve tried not to look at his burn while they were dressing it, but he kept his hand firmly clasped in Tony’s. The doctor’s slathered some sort of an antibacterial cream on the wound after cleaning it thoroughly and carefully covered it with a square of gauze. He was glad that he couldn’t feel the cool air blowing on it, but the fact that it was still there and hadn’t healed yet wasn’t make him feel any better.

“So what’s wrong with Steve?” Tony asked as after the nurse left the room and a doctor walked in. They had been sitting at SHIELD for nearly three hours. Steve had to get blood drawn twice from both arms and had to get a bunch of tests, many of which included being hooked up to beeping monitors and having wires attached to nearly every part of his body. It was unsettling for Steve, but it helped that Tony refused to leave his side throughout the whole thing.

“Well,” the doctor started, staring intently at his clipboard. He looked confused and that did nothing to calm Tony’s nerves.

“Steve seems to have run through the super-soldier serum. There are only bare traces of it left in his system.” Coulson was suddenly in the room and _what the hell_ Tony thought, wondering when he showed up. His voice didn’t waver—he sounded as professional as he always did—but his expression was solemn.

All the color drained from Steve’s face and Tony saw his adam’s apple bob as he attempted to swallow. “So what exactly does that mean?” Tony asked, squeezing Steve’s hand, really trying to comfort himself more so than Steve.

“It means that I’m redeveloping all the health problems I had before, since the serum isn’t keeping me healthy anymore.” Steve’s voice cracked mid-sentence. “And it was a really long list.”

“We think that once all his medical problems come back, all the physical injuries he’s sustained from battle are going to catch up to him. Especially this most recent one…” The doctor shook his head sadly and took off his glasses. “The acid seems to be slowly attacking his organs. We’ve already seen a bit of this with the shortness of breath. I’m not sure yet how quickly the acid is going to affect his organs, so I want him to come back soon so we can run some more tests.”

“I hear a but coming.” Tony said, fingers tightening themselves around Steve’s.

“It doesn’t look good.”

If anything else had been said, Tony didn’t hear it. The words ‘doesn’t look good’ were ringing in his ears. After five years of marriage, eight of total friendship and raising Peter from age 11 to age 16, he never thought something like this would happen. Steve was 33 and Tony was 46 and he figured that he’d be the first to go. He never thought he would have to plan his husbands’ funeral and that he and Peter would have to live without him.

“Tony…Tony…”Steve’s voice jolted him out of his own head and Tony glanced at his husband. “Tony.” He said his husband’s name once more, his arms open for a hug and Tony collapsed boneless, against him in the exam chair.

“Is there anything that can be done to revitalize the serum?” Steve asked, holding his husband close. He was using his Captain America voice, but as Tony rested against his husbands, he could feel Steve shaking.

“Currently, it doesn’t look like it, but we’ll have you come in for some more tests later to determine what we can do.” The doctor tapped his pen some more and jesus, Tony hated that clipboard.

“We have our best man on the job.” Coulson said firmly, through his eyes were sad.

“I want to help.” Tony spoke up, pulling his head away from Steve’s shoulder. “I…I have to help.” His voice was full of determination.

“We’d be glad to have you on board Mr. Stark.”

“My…” He paused, swallowing hard. Steve could feel his hands trembling. “My husband is dying and I’ll be damned if I don’t try to keep him alive.” Steve squeezed Tony’s hand and Tony immediately reacted, squeezing back.

“SHIELD scientists are already doing research. Mr. Stark, we have a space for you—”Tony cut him off.

“I’ll work from my own lab thanks.” Both Tony and Steve saw Coulson’s face twitch. He had never really liked Tony that much, but he knew when to say something and when to be respectful.

“I want your guys to send me their findings on two hour intervals,” Tony said, continuing on. “If I find anything that you guys could use to make some sort of voodoo potion shit with, I’ll send it to you. In the meantime, I’m taking Steve home with me. That’s…that’s where he needs to be right now.” Coulson nodded once, crisp and clean and professional as always and right now, that infuriated Tony. His husband was dying. The least the government bastard could do is show some fucking emotion.

“I think that can be arranged Mr. Stark. Right now, there’s a little shortness of breath, but if anything changes, we need him back. Captain Rogers is free to leave whenever he’s ready.” Coulson turned to leave the room, but stopped cold when Steve said his name—his first name. Phil.

“If you want, I can sign those cards.” He fought back tears, blinking quickly. “I never did do that.”

Coulson smiled. He fucking smiled and not that tight, fake smile that Tony knew so well. It was a genuine smile with sad eyes and it was at that point that Tony knew he was screwed. Because if Cap’s fanboy had no hope, what the hell was he supposed to do?

“I would like that Captain Rogers.”

“Steve. Please call me Steve.” Tony saw Coulson’s smile waver a bit.

“Okay, Steve. I’ll bring the cards by the tower.” He left—Tony swore he heard an emotional cough—and then it was just the two of them.

“Steve, I swear to god, I’m not going to let you…let you go without a fight.”

“I know you won’t Tony. I wouldn’t expect anything less.” Tony managed a poor excuse for a smile and shifted in Steve’s lap in the exam chair. He buried his head into Steve’s neck, not-so-discreetly inhaling. He smelled like Irish Spring, like old cologne (took Tony forever to find that shit), like _Steve_ and Tony knew he wasn’t ready to let that go.

“What the hell are we going to tell Pete?”

* * *

 

Tony was cuddled up with Steve on the plush leather couch that didn’t seem half as comfy as it used to. This time, though, Steve was lying on the couch, feet up on the arm and head in Tony’s lap.

It didn’t take long for Peter to see that something was off when he got back from school.

“Hey Dads,” he said, glancing into the living room as he headed to the kitchen. Recently, instead of Tony being ‘dad’ and Steve being ‘pops’, they were one entity—dads. And for christ sakes, Tony didn’t know what he was going to tell his 16 year old baby boy.

Peter made a double take and walked back into the living room. “This is different.” He said slowly, narrowing his eyes a bit. “It’s usually the other way around. Am I in trouble for something?”

“Nah Pete, you’re golden.” Tony carded his fingers through Steve’s hair.

“Well is it one of you guys?” Steve squeezed his eyes shut and Tony’s hand paused in his husband’s hair. “Shit, this is about Pops, isn’t it?” He hopped over the back of the armchair and plopped onto the cushion, waiting for someone to say something.

“Peter.” Tony said, and Peter could see straight through the ‘confident and strong dad’ guise he was putting up.

“Dad, fuck. You’re scaring me.” Steve couldn’t bring himself to chastise Peter for swearing—if any situation called for less than decent words, it was this one.

And that’s why Peter knew something was really wrong.

“Peter, you know I love you, right?” Steve opened his eyes and smiled sadly and Peter felt lightheaded.

“Of course Pops. I’ve always known that.” He glanced between his dads. “Okay I’m not joking. Someone tell me what’s up. Please!” Tony opened his mouth to say something, but Steve beat him to the punch.

“I’m sick Peter.” The room fell into silence and Tony continued to stroke his hand through his husband’s hair, desperately needing something to do with his hands.

“What?” Peter looked like he was in a daze. “I obviously didn’t hear you correctly. JARVIS, did I hear that right?”

“Unfortunately, yes Master Peter.” Even JARVIS was depressed, and that was the last straw.

“But you’ll be okay, right?” When Steve opened his eyes, the look his son was giving him broke his heart. His brown eyes were wide, his hands trembling. “You’re going to be okay. You _have_ to be okay.”

Steve shook his head. “I’m sorry Peter. I…unless your dad or SHIELD finds something that will help me, I don’t think I will.” Steve felt like he couldn’t breathe, and Peter’s face was breaking his heart.

“Oh god.” Peter murmured and he climbed onto the couch, lying down on top of Steve. Steve wrapped his arms around his son. “This is all wrong. You’re supposed to be there when I graduate high school and college. And when I get married and have kids and you’re supposed to be their totally awesome granddad!” Tony raked a hand through his son’s hair.

“I’ll always be with you Peter. In your heart. And your Dad and all your Aunts and Uncles will be there for all of that.”

“That’s not good enough!” Peter wailed and it was like he was 11 again.

“I’m sorry Peter. I’m so sorry.” Steve kissed the top of his son’s head.

“I hate you.” Peter mumbled, burying his head in his dad’s shoulder. “I hate you so much.” His body shook as he cried silently, staining his father’s nice blue t-shirt with his tears.

Tony watched the exchange between his two favorite boys and didn’t realize that he was crying until he went to rub his tired eyes and they came away wet. He stayed quiet but leaned down to kiss Peter’s head and wind his fingers with Steve’s.

“I’m not ready for you to go,” Tony whispered and Steve looked up at his husband while his hand rubbed over Peter’s back.

“I’m not ready to leave.” Steve closed his eyes and finally let the gravity of the situation sink in and emotions take over. He allowed the tears to run freely down his cheeks and Tony wiped them away, wishing that these weren’t tears of sadness.

If he could swap Steve with himself, he’d do it without missing a beat.

* * *

 

Tony brought Steve his miraculously non-burnt breakfast and his husband smiled fondly at him.

“Thank you.” He leaned up for a kiss and Tony granted him such. “And you didn’t burn it. You’re getting better.”

“Gee thanks,” Tony said sarcastically and Steve laughed. For a moment, Tony forgot that his husband was dying and his family was going to fall apart. But that all came rushing back when Steve’s laugh turned into a hacking cough, shaking his entire frame.

“You okay?” Tony asked, concerned. He placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder and leaned a bit closer to him, waiting the attack out.

“Yeah, fine,” he choked out, taking a large gulp from his orange juice. He cleared his throat and tried to convince Tony that he was right as rain again with a blinding smile, but Tony was no fool. He let it slide this time though. “Pete at school?” Steve asked. Tony sat down next to him and tucked his face into his husbands’ shoulder, nuzzling his jawbone.

“He’s taking a week off.” Tony pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek and he smiled.

“Then is he up for breakfast?” Steve took a bite of his fluffy and non-burnt pancake.

“Don’t think so. Want me to get him?” Tony started to get up off the couch with intentions to go to his son’s room, but Steve grabbed his arm, pulling him back down onto the couch.

“I’ll do it.” He heaved himself off the couch with a groan and Tony couldn’t help the old man jibe that tumbled from his lips. “You love this old man though.” Tony grinned.

“Yeah.” He tugged on Steve’s shirt like a child, and Steve leaned down for a kiss. “I do.” He slapped his husband’s ass. “Now get your son out of bed before breakfast gets cold.”

“I’m on it.” Steve went down the hall and rapped on his son’s door before stepping inside. Had Peter’s head not been poking out of the covers with that familiar messy brown hair, he probably wouldn’t have recognized the lump in the bed.

“Dad already told me I don’t have to go to school.” Steve heard his voice from inside the cocoon of covers, muffled and sounding slightly depressed.

“I know. We just want you down for breakfast.”

“Not hungry,” Peter mumbled, but his stomach betrayed him by growling. Steve chuckled and sat on the edge of the Peter’s bed.

“Pete, moping isn’t going to help you or me. I want you to spend time with me.” Peter pulled the covers down so he could look at his dad.

“But it’ll make me sad to think about it.”

“But it’ll make me sad if you don’t spend time with me. I want…I want to hang out with you.” Peter looked thoughtful for a second before he smiled.

“Alright. I guess I’m not too old to hang out with my pops.” Steve had to grin at that.

“Good to know. Besides, I’m the cool dad, right?” Peter rolled his eyes.

“Pops, only the uncool dad asks if they’re the cool dad.” Steve frowned.

“Darn.”

* * *

 

After the Stark-Rogers family finished breakfast, Tony cleaned up the kitchen and kissed his boys before disappearing down into his lab, promising to come up for dinner (he made no mention of lunch).

Peter snuggled up to his dad on the couch and Steve smiled, patting his thigh. “What do you want to do Pops?” Steve shrugged.

“I don’t know Pete. What do you want to do?” Peter arched an eyebrow and smirked a little—it was at these moments that Peter looked so much like Tony.

“Pops, this conversation never gets us anywhere. Just pick something.”

“How about a movie?” Peter shook his head.

“Nah. There’s nothing good out.” Steve looked offended.

“There’s a lot of good stuff out.” Peter snorted.

“Not really. And you like everything because you’re old—all this stuff is so _fascinating_ to you.” Steve folded his arms.

“I think I should feel insulted.” Peter laughed.

“How about the MOMA?”

“But you don’t really like art Peter.”

“Not as much as you, no. But that’s not the point. You like it. Besides, the last time I went with you, I was 12. Twelve year olds don’t care about art. I’ll appreciate it more since I’m older.

“If you’re sure…” Steve was hesitant.

“Of course. Besides all I want to do is hang out with you, I don’t really care what we do.”

“Alright then.” Steve wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulders, pulling him closer and giving him a noogie. “Go put some semi-nice clothes on and try to tame this lions’ mane of yours.”

“Pops!” Peter squirmed out of his dad’s grip and stood, glaring (unsuccessfully) at Steve. “You just made the ‘lion taming’ job so much harder.” He growled something under his breath and stomped off to his room.

Steve heaved himself off the couch and made his way down to Tony’s lab, walking up behind his husband and hugging him. Tony sagged into his embrace and remained there for a few moments before swiveling around on his workstool, all the screens he had up disappearing as he did.

“What’s cooking good looking?” Steve rolled his eyes and Tony grinned.

“Peter and I are going to the MOMA. Want to come?” Tony gave Steve a wry smile. “I can’t.” He jerked a thumb behind him to where his screens had been a few moments before. “I’m working.”

“What’re you working on?” Tony gave him a look.

“You know the answer to that already.”

“Can’t you take a break?” Steve asked, nearly pleaded. He, of course, appreciated his husband’s determination, but he was afraid that it was all in vain. He wanted to spend as much time with his family as he could with whatever time he had left.

“You know I can’t do that either.” Steve sighed and Tony put his hands on his waist, tugging him forward so he was standing between his legs. “Hey Cap?”

“Hm?”

“Kiss for your boy genius?” Steve had to smile at that and leaned down for a kiss. The couple’s lips melded together and Steve cupped the back of Tony’s neck, kissing him harder. Tony hummed in approval, his hands tightening on Steve’s waist. He licked into Steve’s mouth, caressing his husband’s tongue with his own.

“God Tony,” Steve gasped when he pulled back.

“Yeah.” He knotted their fingers together, shaking his husband’s arms a bit as he talked. “You dorks have fun at the MOMA. I’ll go with you guys the next time you go somewhere.” Steve raised an eyebrow.

“Promise?” Tony pecked his husband’s cheek.

“Promise. As long as it’s no earlier than 11 am.” Steve slapped Tony’s arm and Tony laughed.

“Weirdo.” Tony stuck his tongue out. “I’ll see you later.” He watched Steve leave and swiveled back around in his chair. He groaned and put his head in his hands.

“I’m not ready to lose you Steve. I never will be.”

* * *

 

Peter wasn’t sure if he’d ever understand how his dad could stand and stare, fascinated, at a paint-splattered canvas for 15 minutes. He could barely look at one for two minutes, let alone enjoy it. But it was something his dad enjoyed, so he supposed he could try to enjoy it too.

“Having fun Pete?” Peter didn’t expect his dad to pull himself away from the art long enough to remember that he was still there, so he jumped a bit when Steve spoke.

“Oh, totally.” He smiled. “It’s really interesting.” If his dad knew that he wasn’t being truthful, he didn’t say anything about it.

“Glad to hear. Thanks for hanging out with your old man.” Steve put a strong hand on his son’s shoulder and squeezed a bit.

“Anytime Pops.” He wrapped an arm around Steve’s waist and stood close, his cheek pressed to his dad’s shoulder. They stayed like that during the remainder of the museum visit, neither man voicing their true emotions.

* * *

 

Tony thunked his head down his work desk and growled. Pete and Steve had just gotten back from the MOMA (JARVIS had told him) and he had made absolutely no progress.

He and Bruce were trying their best to figure out a way to replicate the super soldier serum, but even with Bruce’s knowledge of medicine and Tony’s knowledge of technology, nothing was coming of it and they were no closer to a solution than they had been four hours ago.

And it was irritating the hell out of him.

What use was it being a genius if he couldn’t even keep his own husband from dying?

“Hey Tony.” Steve’s beautiful voice drifted through his ears. He swiveled around on his stool, unable to keep a smile off of his lips, and opened his arms, inviting his husband in for a hug.

Steve accepted without protest.

He wrapped Tony up in a hug that swept him off of his stool, holding the dark haired man close to his chest.

“Missed you,” Tony muttered into Steve’s neck. He circled his arms around his super soldier husband and nipped at his ear, burying his head in Steve’s shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

“A bit of stomach pain and it’s still a little bit hard to breathe, but otherwise good.” Steve carded his fingers through Tony’s hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Get any work done?” He asked Tony when the two pulled back from their emotional hug. Tony shrugged, unwilling to lie but to also provide more information. “Well, want to watch a movie with me and Pete?”

“Spend time with my two favorite boys? I’m in.” He tangled his fingers with Steve’s and towed him to the stairs, yelling at JARVIS to save all projects before shutting down his lab.

“Hey Dads,” Peter said when the two entered the living room.

“What movie are we watching?” Tony asked, his hand rubbing Steve’s lower back.

“ _The Incredibles._ Pete picked.” Steve answered, unintentionally arching into Tony’s touch.

“And where’s the popcorn?” Peter frowned.

“Uh…nowhere.” Tony rolled his eyes.

“Well?” He jabbed his thumb in the direction of the kitchen. “Go make some. Can’t watch a movie without popcorn.”

“Oh come on,” Peter protested. “JARVIS, can you do it?”

“No JARVIS, don’t. Peter, you’re too old to still be whining. Popcorn, now.” Peter puffed out some air and went to the kitchen, muttering under his breath. Tony swatted his ass as he passed.

Peter whipped around, glaring at his dads. Tony tried to keep his face neutral, instead pointing a finger at Steve. Peter looked back and forth between the two, grunting in annoyance before going into the kitchen.

Tony burst into laughter as soon as Peter was out of earshot. “Stop tormenting our son Tony,” Steve said, though he was trying not to laugh himself.

“Oh come on,” Tony responded, still chuckling. “It’s only because I love him.

“Yeah,” Steve said. “I know.” He pulled Tony close and kissed him, his hands cupping Tony’s cheek. Tony tilted his head a bit and slipped his tongue into his husband’s mouth. Steve’s tongue met his and he groaned when Tony pushed him up against the nearest wall.

The two were pressed close together, Steve’s thigh between Tony’s legs. Tony nipped at Steve’s lip and grinded against his thigh, loving the feel of his husband’s hard muscle against him. Steve’s hand pressed firmly against Tony’s lower back, holding him tight against him.

“Popcorn’s ready.” Peter wondered why neither of his dads responded, soon finding his answer when he stepped back into the living room. Slightly annoyed but more amused with his dads antics, he decided to do something about it.

So he dumped the freshly made popcorn over Tony’s head.

Tony yelped and turned to glare at his son who was now holding an empty plastic bowl.

“You’d better run squirt.” So Peter did.

He dropped the bowl and ran, Tony right on his heels.

Steve just stood there and laughed.

When Tony finally caught Peter, he gave him a rough noogie, then forced him to pick up all the popcorn he had spilled on the floor and made him cook another bag.

They finally got to the living room and had JARVIS queue up _The Incredibles_. Steve and Tony sat beside each other on the couch, and Peter draped his upper body over his dad’s laps. Steve smiled softly and threaded his fingers into his son’s messy brown hair, holding Tony’s hand with his other.

Tony rested his head on Steve’s shoulder, his free hand lying right over Peter’s heart.

* * *

 

When Tony exited the bathroom, Steve was lying in bed, shirtless with the sheets drawn up to his waist. Their eyes met and Tony grinned, sliding into bed, freshly showered in a grey sleeveless shirt and black boxers.

“Well hey there sexy.” Steve rolled his eyes and Tony pressed a sweet kiss to his temple, snuggling into his side. Steve breathed out a long sigh.

“It’s been a long day.” He stroked a hand down Tony’s side, thumbing at the waistband of his husband’s boxers.

“Did you and Pete go anywhere besides MOMA?” Tony tangled his fingers with the blonde’s and scooted closer. They were both laying on their sides now, blue eyes meeting brown ones, their fingers curled tightly together between them.

“We got some ice cream and walked around a bit. Just talked.” Steve gave a little smile, his eyes sad.

“Sounds nice.” Tony threw a leg over Steve’s, pressing even closer to him. Their hands were still wedged tightly between them, but now their foreheads were pressed together. “I wish we could…I wish we had more time for that. For just talking.”

“Yeah,” Steve responded and he closed his eyes, rubbing his nose against Tony’s. “Me too.”

* * *

 

For nearly the entire first week after Steve’s diagnosis, things seemed almost normal, minus Steve’s minor and occasional cough and the fact that the burn that decorated his side and wasn’t improving. After that though, things got worse.

Steve got winded making his way from the bedroom to the kitchen, and he couldn’t stand for more than three minutes at a time. Even when he was seated and stationary, he had trouble breathing. They only made love twice in that first week but after that, there was nothing more than brief touches. When they got started, Steve swore he could continue, but Steve’s body said what his mouth didn’t.

During the beginning of the second week, Tony and Steve took a trip back to SHIELD for further tests. Steve heart was working extra hard to try and pump blood to his body and his liver was in early stages of failure. They gave him medicine, but as of right now, it didn’t look like his body was allowing the pills to metabolize. Tony had JARVIS keeping a close eye on his husband as he slept.

It was nearing the end of the 2nd week after Steve’s diagnosis and Peter had gone back to school. Over the years, with Steve’s help, Tony had gotten better at the whole fatherhood thing, so it was easy for him to see that his son was having trouble focusing on his schoolwork.

One evening, Tony took a break from his work/research in the lab to check on Steve. When he poked his head into their room, he saw that Steve was napping. He had JARVIS give him a quick update on Steve’s condition and he seemed to be okay for the time being. He saw that Steve was shivering, despite the room being a bit warm, so he drew the covers up over him and kissed his forehead.

He went to check on Peter next. His door was open, his back turned to Tony as he worked on homework at his desk, but Tony knocked anyway before entering.

“Hey Pete,” Tony said as he walked in, leaning against the edge of Peter’s sturdy desk. Peter glanced up from his Physics to look at his dad.

“Hey Dad.” His eyes dropped back down to his Physics worksheet, but he seemed to be looking through it rather than at it. Tony had never really been good at the whole comforting people thing (that’s what he had Steve for), but he had to step up to the plate.

“I know that this isn’t easy for you Peter, but it isn’t easy for anyone else either. I hope you know that if there was something that could be done, it would’ve been done.”

“God Dad,” Peter blurted out suddenly, slamming his fist down on the desk and startling Tony. “You’re supposed to be a fucking genius! What’s the point in being one if you can’t help Pops?” Tony was taken aback at how furious his son was, but when he realized that what he was saying was exactly what he had thought earlier, his heart broke in half.

“You’re right,” he whispered, staring down at his filthy work boots. “I should be able to…” Peter’s face softened.

“Shit. I…I really didn’t mean that.” He touched his dad’s forearm and Tony eyes flitted up from the ground and at his son. “I know that if there was something that you could do, you’d do it.”

“Of course Pete, but I should be able to think of something. I—”

 “Dad!” Peter cut him off. “I know you’re working 100x harder than everyone else in the world trying to figure out a cure for this thing. Don’t sell yourself short.” Tony smiled at Peter.

“What would I do without you Pete?” Peter shrugged, actually looking at his worksheet now, but smiling.

“You probably wouldn’t be able to work the toaster.” Tony scoffed.

“I have JARVIS for that. Oh, and if you ever curse at me again, I’ll kick your ass while wearing the Iron Man armor. Got that?” Tony glared at his son, both knowing that he was only half serious

“Yeah Dad,” Peter said, prodding him in the side with his eraser. “Got it.”

* * *

 

For the first time since Steve’s diagnosis, the Avengers had to assemble. It absolutely broke Steve’s heart to know that he couldn’t join his comrades, but he knew he wouldn’t be much help if he were there.

“Please don’t do anything stupid.” Steve said to his husband as he watched his armor attach to him.

“I never do anything stupid.” Tony could’ve sworn he heard a scoff from JARVIS, but he knew his AI knew better. “Okay fine, no guarantees about stupidity.” Steve saw Tony flash a grin before the faceplate swung shut. The eyes on his suit lit up with that arc reactor blue and his voice sounded slightly mechanized. “But I promise to come back alive. That much I can say.”

“I love you,” was all Steve was able to respond with before Tony took off through his flight tunnel. He frowned and sighed, not wanting to make the long trip up the 16 stairs to the living room (and yes, he had counted).

“Dad?” Steve heard Peter’s voice, and then soon saw him standing at the foot of the stairs. “Oh.” He said, sounding disappointed. “He already left? I was going to tell him not to do anything stupid.” Steve had to laugh at that, though it hurt his chest a little to do so.

“No worries Pete, I already did.” Peter smiled, walking over to his dad and leaning against his shoulder. His dad near constant talk about his bedroom activity with his pops made him want to throw up, but he was right about one thing—his strong and sturdy frame was very comforting.

“Hey Pops. I was hoping you could help me study for my WWII test on Monday.”

Steve smiled. “I’d love to Pete. But uh…can we do it down here or…” Steve hated being so dependent on his family and friends, but if he wanted to spend time with them, he didn’t have much of a choice.

“I’ll help you up the stairs, old man.” Peter laughed as he dodged Steve’s swipe at his head.

“Watch it,” he warned, but his lips were turned up into a smile. He stood up with a grunt and slowly made his way to the stairs, already breathing hard by the time he got there. He held his hand up in the universal ‘one moment please’ sign. Peter waited patiently, starting up the stairs when Steve gripped his elbow.

It took them nearly five minutes to make it up the 16 stairs, but they made it and Steve collapsed onto the couch.

“Want some water or something before we start?” Peter asked and Steve nodded, still trying to catch his breath. “Alright, I’ll be right back.” He turned to leave, but paused, contemplating something. He turned back and kissed the top of his dad’s head. “I love you.”

Steve stared after his son as he walked away.

* * *

 

Steve helped Peter study until the Avengers came back nearly three hours later, dirty but no worse for the wear.

Tony entered the living room, dirty and sweaty, but smiling nonetheless. “Hey dorks,” he said, greeting his favorite boys. They both turned to look at him with matching glares. He held his hands up in surrender. “So the crew wants to have a family dinner later, but I need to freshen up. Steve, wanna give me a hand?” He waggled his eyebrows and Peter made barfing noises.

“Okay, I think I’m done studying. Pops, thanks. Dad, you’re nasty.” Peter picked up his textbook, composition notebook and study guide and stuck his tongue out at Tony as he walked by.

When he left, Tony eased himself into Steve’s lap and Steve made a face. “Boy, you sure do need to freshen up,” he said, crinkling his nose.

“Well, what are you waiting for then?”

* * *

 

Tony groaned and tipped his head back, loving the feeling of Steve’s fingers massaging his scalp.

“Babe, your fingers are magical,” he said, shivering when Steve leaned forward and pressed his lips to Tony’s neck.

“Nice to know. Now close your eyes before you get shampoo in them.” Tony grumbled, but listening to the blonde anyway. Steve finished washing Tony’s hair and spread some of the sweet smelling conditioner through it before he sighed.

Tony immediately recognized it as an exhausted sigh.

“Okay Cap, your turn. It’s fine, here, go ahead and sit down on that bench. I had it put in here for a reason.” Steve sat and watched his husband as he squeezed some of Steve’s Irish Spring into his hand.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly and Tony’s hands paused on Steve’s muscled chest, careful to avoid Steve’s burn. Steve wasn’t supposed to get the dressing wet, but it made showering difficult, so Tony made sure that he helped his husband change the bandages afterwards.

“You’re sorry? What the hell for?”

“For making you do this. I know I’m inconveniencing you.” Tony threw his head back and laughed like Steve had told the funniest joke in the world.

“Do you seriously think that it’s a hassle for me to shower with you?” He shook his head. “Have you looked at yourself lately? Steve.” Tony sat down in his husband’s lap, the strong showerhead raining water down on both of them. “You could never inconvenience me Steve. Never. And I’m not sure how you could think I wouldn’t enjoy being with my incredibly sexy husband who happens to be wet and naked.”

“Are you sure?” Steve ran his hand up Tony’s back, rubbing his fingers into the spot right above his shoulder blades.

“Absolutely positive.” Tony smiled one of his rare, genuine smiles and continued to rub soap on his husband. His hands rubbed down Steve’s arms, pressing their hands together and capturing Steve’s lips with his.

Their lips moved slowly and expertly together, with five years of practice. Steve tipped his head back to get more leverage, the back of his skull touching the blue tiled wall. He licked tentatively into Tony’s mouth and Tony responded eagerly.

“Well hello there,” Tony murmured into the kiss when he felt Steve perk up against his ass. “God, I really wish we could—” Tony stopped himself short. He didn’t want Steve to feel even worse about himself, but it was too late for that.

“I know,” Steve said, pulling away from Tony, ashamed. “I’m sorry that we can’t…”

“Steve, not a problem.” He said, kissing his husband’s forehead. “I don’t care…okay, well I can’t say I don’t care that we’re not having sex, but it’s okay. Because there are so many other things I can do with you that make me just as happy.” His hands moved to hold Steve’s face in his hands. “Now let’s finish you up and get ready for dinner.”

* * *

 

Tony and Steve strolled into the communal dining room, hands linked together. Peter was a few steps ahead of them.

“Hey Bruce,” Steve said, leaning against the doorjamb to the kitchen. Clint squeezed by him, hooking his arm into Tony’s and stealing him away from his husband. Tony kissed Steve’s cheek and let Clint drag him away.

“Hi Steve,” Bruce said, turning away from his mac and cheese on the stove. He wiped his hands on a small green and purple towel before tossing it over his shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

“All right given the circumstances I suppose.” Bruce nodded knowingly. He nudged his glasses up his nose with his knuckle and stirred the macaroni. “Can I help with anything?”

“I think I’ve got it all under control. Thanks though.” Steve frowned, feeling useless again. “Oh but before you go, taste this.” He grabbed a fork full of macaroni and cheddar cheese and motioned for Steve to open his mouth. “Is it any good?” He asked once Steve had a mouth full, but he didn’t have a chance to answer.

“I’m gone for two minutes and you’re already feeding my husband.” Tony stepped between Bruce and his husband. “Back it up pal.” Bruce smiled, but stepped back, handing Steve back over to Tony. “Better.”

Tony curled his fingers back into Steve’s and the two left the kitchen just as Natasha walked in.

“No way!” Tony shouted. “She cooks, too.”  He grinned and dodged the hit Nat aimed at his head (it didn’t work) and Steve dragged him to the dining room.

Peter and Clint were already seated at the table, both on Stark technology. “Pete,” Steve said, nudging his arm as he sat. “No phones during dinner.”

“But Pops, dinner hasn’t started.”

“No ‘but Pops’ Peter,” Tony retorted, snatching his phone from his hands. “As much as I love the fact that you are using your Dad’s tech instead of that Apple nonsense, your Pops is right.” He pocketed his son’s phone. “And Clint, you’re an adult—I think—so you should know better,” he said as he pulled out his own StarkPhone. Peter’s mouth dropped and he gave his dad an incredulous look.

“That rule applies to you too Tony,” Steve pointed out, tugging the phone from his husband’s fingers.

“Aw come on Steve,” Tony whined, his bottom lip jutting out as he pouted, and Peter folded his arms, smiling at the revenge dealt out to his dad. Clint looked up from his own phone.

“Tony,” Clint started, a smile sneaking onto his face as he spoke. “You’re an adult—I think—you should know better.”

Peter screamed when his dad threw his phone across the table at Clint’s head.

* * *

 

Peter glared at his father throughout dinner and Tony tried his best to swat away the angry stares. The family dinner of steak, mac and cheese, and assorted veggies prepared by Bruce and (gasp!) Tasha wasn’t too bad.

Steve insisted that the dinner rivaled something he might make, but Tony vehemently disagreed, hoping the combined glares of Peter and Tasha wouldn’t kill him.

“Why’d you throw his phone?” Steve asked quietly as the others at the table chatted. Their hands were clasped together beneath the table, which forced Tony to use his left hand to eat. Only half the food was actually making it to his mouth, but it was okay because he hadn’t been that hungry anyway.

“No big deal Steve, babe. It’s my tech, I can get him a new and better one in a few hours with all his apps, contacts, saved texts and nude photos intact.” Steve’s eyebrows shot up.

“He has some of those?” He asked, and Tony had to laugh at how surprised he looked.

“He’s a teenage boy, I assume so,” Tony replied, waving it off like it was nothing.

Steve looked a little green as he started eating again and Tony wrote it off since it had come after the mention of nudes on Peter’s phone.

He wasn’t so sure after another 15 minutes.

“Babe, you okay?” Tony asked, his eyebrows knit together and concern in his voice. Steve nodded, but barely three seconds later, he ran to the kitchen, toppling his chair over, and everyone could hear him vomiting.

“Fuck,” Tony hissed, tossing his napkin onto the table and running to check on his husband.

When he entered the kitchen, he saw Steve’s blonde head buried in the trashcan. He walked over and rubbed Steve’s back soothingly.

“I’m okay.” Steve insisted, pulling up and glancing at Tony. Sweat dotted his forehead and he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. Tony frowned and was about to mention that he could get Steve a wet rag, but Steve pushed his head back into the trashcan and threw up again.

When he pulled up this time, Tony saw blood accompanying the half-digested mac and cheese. His face drained of all color.

“JARVIS, tell Happy to get the car ready now. Steve needs to get to SHIELD.”

* * *

 

“His liver is failing and the super soldier serum isn’t letting the medicine metabolize,” the SHIELD doctor said, glancing at all the beeping monitors Steve was hooked to. He had stopped vomiting, but he was still sweating and he had some trouble breathing. Tony insisted on an oxygen mask even though his husband claimed he was fine. His burn was oozing pus and a bit of blood, so the medics changed his dressing for him. “He seems to be stable now,” the doctor said, continuing on like Tony hadn’t even said anything. “Our scientists are still working around the clock, but unfortunately have found nothing. Mr. Stark—”

“That’s Stark-Rogers, thank you.” Tony sniffed.

“Mr. Stark-Rogers, can I assume you haven’t found anything either since we haven’t heard from you?”

“Yeah,” he muttered, and Steve hated how defeated he looked.

“We’ll keep Mr. Rogers overnight, and if he’s still stable in the morning then you can take him home.” The doctor didn’t sound too confident about the odds of taking his husband home. He tapped Steve’s insanely large folder with his pen (fuck, Tony hated that tapping) and left the room, instructing nurses to switch him to a nasal cannula. Not long after they did, Peter poked his head in the room now.

“Can I come in now?” He pleaded, fingers gripping hard at the doorjamb. Tony didn’t want Peter to hear anything about Steve’s condition, so he made him stay out in the waiting room with everyone else. Dinner had screeched to a halt when Steve had to seek medical treatment, so they all showed up (Peter in front, of course) not long after Tony and Steve arrived.

“Of course,” Steve said.

“Oh god, Pops,” he said, and came into the room, squeezing into the bed on the other side of Steve. He put his hand on his dad’s forearm. “Are you alright?”

Steve wanted to say something, he really did. But he didn’t want to lie either, and give Peter (or himself) false hope, so he settled with a shrug. That didn’t make anyone in the room feel any better.

“Well…” Peter trailed off, his mouth turned down into a frown. “Can you come home?”

“He’s got to stay overnight, but when he’s okay tomorrow, he can come home,” Tony said, answering for his husband. Steve glanced at him and Tony carded his fingers through that lovely blonde hair. “You shouldn’t talk anymore,” he murmured, and Steve’s beautiful baby blue’s met his. He had to look away so he tucked Steve back against his side.

“But Dad,” Peter started slowly, squeezing his shaking hands into fists. “Pops was _throwing up blood._ ”

“Got that Pete,” Tony snapped, and felt bad immediately after the words left his mouth. “I’m sorry, Peter, dammit. I just…this has got me on edge.” Steve nuzzled into his side and Tony rubbed Steve’s bicep.

“I know. It’s got us all on edge.” He looked like he was going to say something else, but when Clint walked into the room, his mouth snapped shut.

“How ya doing Capsicle?” Clint asked, Bruce and Natasha walking in right behind him.

“Hey,” Tony said, pointing a finger at the archer. “That’s my nickname for him.”

Clint ignored him.

“Not throwing up anymore,” he said, and he didn’t sound like he had rocks in his throat any longer, so Tony decided to roll with it. Peter stacked his pillows up behind him and Tony helped him into a more upright position. “I’m sorry I ruined dinner.”

Natasha rolled her eyes and the corner of her mouth quirked up. “Yes, because it was completely your fault that you threw up.” Steve shrugged a bit.

“Well I—”

“I think she was being sarcastic,” Clint said, his eyebrows furrowing together. “I think.”

“Okay, well the point is that we don’t think you ruined dinner. We can have dinner again some other time.” Bruce said, chiming in. “When you’re better.” He knew better than to say something like that, but he couldn’t help it. He hated watching everyone sulk around, waiting for Steve to keel over.

“Later this week?” Steve asked, sounding hopeful though he knew he shouldn’t be. Bruce nodded soundly.

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Bruce smiled and patted Steve’s shin. “We’ll go and let you rest, I think you need it.”

“Thanks for coming,” Steve said, smiling that supermodel smile.

“Well, it’s not like we had dinner to eat.” Clint retorted, and Natasha jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. He grunted and she dragged him out of the room after smiling at Steve.

“We’ll see you at home,” Bruce said, sounding so damn sure of his words and Tony’s insides twisted up. He left too, leaving Peter, Tony and Steve alone again.

The blonde sighed and settled back into the pillows, letting his shoulders droop. Peter slipped under the covers and snuggled against his side, desperately wishing this would all go away. Steve gently massaged Peter’s scalp, something that made anyone fall asleep in mere minutes.

“When I take you home tomorrow,” Tony said softly, pulling Steve’s head over to rest on his shoulder, “I’ll make you your favorite dinner.”

“Why are you all so confident that I’ll be going home tomorrow?” Steve questioned, and Tony turned to look at his husband, horrified. It was the first time that Steve had actually voiced his lack of confidence in the situation.

“My god Steve,” Tony said, pulling him close again and pressing a firm kiss to his temple. “It’s because…because I know. And I can’t bear to think otherwise.”

“Shouldn’t we be realistic though?” He said, and Tony really wanted to punch him. At first, he thought about how he’d probably end up hurting himself more than Steve, but then he recalled that his husband was _dying_ and he might actually hurt him.

And that fucking broke him.

“No Steve. Just…let us live in our fantasy, okay?” Steve didn’t respond, just nuzzled into Tony’s neck and breathed in his way-too-expensive cologne.

Which was a horrible idea.

He was thrown into a coughing fit that woke Peter. His hands fumbled for the oxygen mask and he took a drag of the fresh air like he was smoking a cigarette before calming. Peter and Tony were both looking at him with these heartbroken expressions and he couldn’t deal with it.

“Um…I’m kind of hungry,” he lied, and he _knew_ that Tony knew he was lying, because he always knew. Even when he was embarrassed, he said things with certainty. Whenever he was lying, he always hesitated, but Tony was the only one who ever called him on it. “Can you guys find me something to eat? Since I kind of…you know, didn’t have dinner.” His voice was back to sounding like his throat had been stuffed full of rocks.

“Of course Cap,” Tony said, sliding out of the hospital bed and looking at him. He took Steve’s hand and squeezed it gently before dropping it and heading towards the door. “C’mon Pete.” He waved his son over and Peter hesitantly followed him. Tony draped an arm over his shoulders and the two left the room.

Steve wiped at his watering eyes. A little over 8 years ago he had woken up from a 70 year nap, learning that he had lost so many friends, but at the same time gaining so many more, and a family in the process.

He would be sleeping again soon, but this one wouldn’t be a nap. He would much rather sleep for another 70 years and wake up than not wake up at all.

* * *

 

Peter and Tony were walking back to SHIELD from the Chinese place down the street, boxes of stir-fried veggies and some wonton soup in an unnecessarily large brown paper bag. No words had been spoken between the two on the way there, and none on the way back either, but Peter had grabbed Tony’s hand and neither pulled back.

Peter hadn’t held his dad’s hand since he was 11 years old, but he wasn’t thinking about how childish he appeared. He was thinking about how his father, Captain fucking America, was dying and nobody could do shit about it.

Tony felt his son’s hand shake in his and he squeezed it. “How can you be so strong about this?” Peter asked quietly, and his father barely heard him over the extremely noisy New York streets.

“Peter, I know you don’t want to hear this, but I’m fucking falling apart on the inside. But your pops needs people to be strong and it’s damn hard, but he needs it.”

“But how can you do it? I don’t get it.”

“When you’re my age and you’ve seen people around you get hurt and die, it doesn’t get any easier, but you learn how to be strong for their sake. Because I think that’s the most important thing.”

“But dad, isn’t that like, giving them false hope?” Tony knew that Peter was right, but he shrugged anyway as they walked up to SHIELD’s incognito entrance.

They made their way back to Steve’s room, filling the halls with the aroma of Chinese food, and when they got there, they noticed that Steve was asleep. His EKG machine was beeping steadily and the oxygen mask was still on his face. He was curled up in the bed with the covers drawn up to his broad shoulders, his head resting on his bicep.

Peter walked into the room and opened his mouth to wake Steve up, but Tony grabbed his arm and shook his head.

“Let him sleep,” he said softly. “He can eat later.” Peter nodded and Tony went to sit in the chair beside Steve’s bed.

He couldn’t keep the smile off of his face when Peter settled into his lap.

* * *

 

Steve didn’t come home the next morning because his condition didn’t stabilize. It got worse, in fact, and Tony stayed at his side despite Steve’s protests that he should go home and get some rest in a ‘real’ bed.

Peter came and visited every day after school and Tony was so proud of how strong he was when he came in. Much stronger than Tony felt. The rest of the crew made sure Peter ate, did his homework and got to bed on time and for that, Tony was thankful.

* * *

 

Today was the day. Tony knew that today was the day because his butt had been planted in this hard ass plastic chair for the past 48 hours and in the past 24, one of the doctors came in to tell him that Steve didn’t have more than two days left. Given that information, Tony blubbered like a baby in the bathroom stall and then sent out the most depressing ‘Avengers Assemble’ text he’d ever have to send out in his life. The next morning when Steve woke (Tony’s brain kept telling him that this was the last morning that Steve would wake up), all of the Avengers, including Fury, Hill, Pepper, Sam and Coulson, were gathered at his bedside. Peter was standing next to Tony, trying his best not to cry. His hand was shaking violently in Tony’s.

“Oh. Hey guys.” Steve said, speaking as if he wasn’t currently in the hospital and wasn’t about to die. His eyes flickered around at all the sad faces before he gave them all a solemn smile. “C’mon, no. You guys can’t come in here looking broken like that. It’ll just…just make me feel worse.”

Tony shook his head. Leave it to his husband to feel that he’s inconveniencing others by dying.

Maria stepped up first. Her hand settled on top of Steve’s, lightly over the IV. “Steve.” She said, lips pressed tightly together. “We’ve never had anyone like you work for SHIELD before.”

“That’s a lie.” Steve said immediately, voice soft and barely audible over the beeping of the EKG machine.

“It’s not.” Maria said, thumb rubbing over Steve’s fingers.

“Peggy.” Maria gave a small smile.

“You know there’s never going to be anyone else like you, Steve. You know that. And we know that. And we would never want anyone else like you here. There will only ever be one Steven Grant Rogers.” She patted his hand and smiled at him one more time before turning and leaving the room, hand pressed over her eyes.

Peter was leaning more heavily on Tony now, breathing uneven as he kept trying to hold back his tears. Tony squeezed his hand. Peter squeezed back.

Coulson walked up next, standing there in his suit. “Hey Steve.”

“Hi Coulson.”

“You never signed my cards.” Steve blinked at him a few times before laughing, the corners of his eyes crinkling up and his white smile visible.

“No,” he finally answered, still grinning. “I didn’t. Do you have them? I’d like to sign them now.”

“I always have them.” Tony felt like he was witnessing a private exchange. Coulson pulled the cards from his breast pocket along with a standard SHIELD issue pen ( _Of course_ , Tony thought, _always by the book)_ , and then handed them over to Steve.

It took a moment for Steve to get the hang of holding a pen again as he hadn’t done so in quite a while, but he eventually scrawled a message on one of the cards and signed the rest of them, handing them back to Coulson.

“Keep them safe,” he said as he passed the pen back to Coulson.

“Always.” Was the SHIELD Agent’s response, and he left the room.

Fury walked up next, his long black overcoat swishing in the nonexistent wind. “You’re one of few people, besides your idiot husband of course, who will openly call me out on my shit.” Steve had to smile at that.

“I’ve got to do what I think is best to protect the citizens of this Earth.”

“I appreciate that.” Fury responded, nodding once. “We all do.” They shared a look, something that allowed the two to have an entire conversation without speaking, and then Fury left the room as well.

“You never let me set you up on that date.” Nat said, taking a seat on the corner of Steve’s bed and giving his knee a gentle squeeze.

“I never needed to.” He said, looking over at Tony with those sickeningly gorgeous blue eyes. Tony had to look away.

“I guess not.” She rubbed his knee, absentmindedly. “You’re the first real friend I’ve ever made, I think.” She gave him a little smile and Steve was genuinely startled to see her eyes shining in the bright lights.

“I’m honored.” He said honestly.

“You should be.” She slid off of the bed and moved up closer to Steve’s head, brushing his hair away from his forehead and leaning down to press her lips to his skin. “Take care.” She said, her words indicating that they’d all see him again soon even though they knew that they wouldn’t be. She turned and left.

“Who’s going to yell at me to pull my arrows out of the wall?” Clint asked as he stepped up, hand gripping the rail on the side of Steve’s bed.

“I think Tony can handle that.” Steve answered simply. “Mmm, perhaps Nat would be a better choice. Maybe then you’d actually stop doing that.” Clint smiled at that and whispered something to Steve. Steve laughed and nodded, watching his archer friend as he left.

Thor moved to stand next to Steve, looking oddly huge next to the noticeably smaller Steve. It was a startling visual. “My brother.” He said, his voice the softest that anyone in the room had ever heard it. Thor was almost always loud, if not booming when he talked. The fact that his voice had gone down a good three octaves spoke to the severity of the situation.

Steve shook his head. “I’m not your brother.” He said, putting his hand on Thor’s forearm.

“Yes. You are. We’ve fought in battle together, we’ve lived together, grown together. Steven, you are my brother.” He gave Steve’s hand a little squeeze. “Stay well, wherever you may go.”

“Thanks.” Steve said, his voice cracking in the middle. Everyone else pretended not to notice and Thor turned and left.

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing out of Bruce’s mouth when he stepped forward, glasses tucked into the breast pocket on his button up shirt.

“For what?” Steve asked, baffled.

“For not being able to find something that could save you.” He shrugged a little, taking a breath. “Not really sure that I deserve to call myself a scientist.”

“Don’t apologize.” Steve’s voice was serious all of a sudden—his Captain America voice. “You and Tony, you both, are the smartest people I know. And Tony, I know you’re beating yourself up over this too and I don’t want you to. Either of you. I don’t blame you for what’s happening and I don’t want you to blame yourselves. Just…please don’t.”

Bruce folded his arms and smiled a little. “I don’t deserve you as a friend Steve.”

“Don’t say that. You do.” Bruce shook his head, cheeks a light dusting of green, but said nothing else as he left the room.

“Did you ever figure out what makes you happy?” Sam asked, not hesitating to take Steve’s hand and grip it in his own. Tony had no idea what the man was referring to, but clearly Steve did.

“Yeah.” He answered. “You guys. The Avengers. My family.”

“I’m glad,” Sam replied. “Wherever you’re headed, make sure to keep it clear of bad guys. I don’t want it running amuk when I get there.” He jostled Steve’s arm just a bit.

“Of course. It’s my job isn’t it?” Sam chuckled and shook his head.

“Steve Rogers. It was an honor to work with you.”

“The honor is all mine, Sam Wilson.” Tony saw Steve’s grip on Sam’s hand tighten just a bit before it dropped. “Keep doing what you’re doing.”

“I wouldn’t think of doing anything else.” Sam left.

Pepper was suddenly at Steve’s side without him noticing her movement, her hair up in its usual neat, high pony tail and wearing her white suit. Nothing about her looked out of place except for her red eyes.

“How am I supposed to keep Tony in line without you?” She asked, voice shaking. Steve reached out, palm up, and Pepper took his hand.

“You did it for so long without me around. I’m sure you can do it again.”

“I don’t want to,” she answered quietly, biting her lip.

“You have to. I _need_ you to.” Pepper wiped at her eyes and sucked in a breath before smiling.

“Well since you asked so nicely.” Steve brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. Pepper pulled her hand away, cradling it against her chest before walking from the room, her red ponytail swishing behind her.

With Pepper’s exit, that left only Tony, Peter and Steve. The Stark-Rogers family.

“What did Clint say to you?” Tony had to ask. He was afraid that if the room was quiet for too long, he wouldn’t be able to hold back his tears.

“He told me to, and I quote, ‘haunt the shit out of Tony.’” Steve gave his husband a weak smile. “Still trying to decide if I’m going to do that or not. Maybe I’ll haunt Clint, just to spite him.”

“Pops.” Peter said, voice absolutely falling apart and Steve beckoned him over. He hopped into the bed next to Steve and carefully curled into his side, nosing into his dad’s neck and crying. Tony could see Steve’s trying to swallow his own tears.

Steve held the hand out that wasn’t wrapped around Peter out to Tony and his husband took it, threading their fingers together like they had done so many times before. “I love you both,” Steve said quietly, letting his eyes close briefly. “You know that right?”

“I’ve got the ring to prove it,” Tony said, going for lighthearted but his own voice sounded foreign to him.

“That’s not what proves it.” Steve squeezed Tony’s hand a bit. “Peter, when you were a child, I ran into a collapsing building without my shield to come save you because I care about your safety more than I do my own. And Tony, the reason that I literally pull you away from your work, make sure you eat and get enough sleep is because I love you and I like making sure that you’re healthy. Of course, there are a million more things on that list, but I just wanted to make sure that you two know.”

“I’ve always known.” Peter mumbled into Steve’s neck. His hand tightened in the fabric of Steve’s hospital gown.

“Good.” The family sat in near silence, trying their best to enjoy what was most likely their last moment together. Tony thought he saw the face of a doctor in the door, but it was gone before he was sure. He was glad that for once, someone was respecting their family’s privacy.

“Pete.” Steve’s soft voice broke the silence and Peter pulled his face away from his dad’s shoulder, looking at him. “I need you to do me a favor.”

“Anything.” For the first time in a while, Peter’s voice was solid and unwavering.

“I need you to keep doing what you’re doing. Keep excelling at school and getting excited over science and being a respectful man. Because if you keep doing all of those things, I’ll always be proud of you.” Steve took Peter’s chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I know that one day, you’re going to achieve great things Peter, I really do. You’re an amazingly smart kid, possibly even smarter than your dad.”

“Hey!”

“Peter, I’m just sorry that when you do reach that point in your life, I won’t be there to see it.” Peter didn’t bother to wipe away the tears now sliding down his cheeks and Steve made no move to dry them either.

“Don’t be sorry, Pops. Wherever you’ll be, I know you’ll be proud and I know you’ll see it. It’s the least I can do for you.”

“Tony, I’m only asking one thing of you.” Tony glanced up from where he was thumbing the wedding band around Steve’s finger.

“And what’s that?”

“Just try not to blow up the lab.” The comment was so unexpected that Tony started to laugh, uncontrollably so. It took him a good few minutes to calm down, but when he did, he wiped the tears from his eyes and nodded.

“I’ll try my best, but no promises.” Steve gave him a small smile.

“Good enough for me. Two more things.”

“Hit me.” Tony said.

“Can I have a kiss?” It was such a normal and innocently asked question that it almost made Tony cry. He nodded, slowly, and stood, leaning over his husband and pressing their lips together. Steve’s lips were soft and pliant beneath his, allowing Tony control in the kiss. He purposefully kept it simple and chaste, saying things with his mouth that he couldn’t say with his voice. He felt and then tasted a salty tear slide over his lips. His thumbs came up to wipe away his husband’s tears.

It was one of few times that Peter saw his parents kiss and didn’t make any sort of comment about it. He knew that their love was unique and beautiful and he was happy that the two had been together for as long as they have. He just wished that their time together wasn’t being cut short so suddenly.

“The other thing?” Tony asked when he pulled back from the kiss. He hovered close to Steve for a bit, resting their foreheads together before he sat back down next to the bed.

Steve released Tony’s hand to twist off his wedding band, pressing the Vibranium into Tony’s hand before he could get the “no” out of his mouth.

“Tony, please. Take it.” Steve sounded pained, and Tony kept his fingers curled around the ring in his finger.

“But Steve—”

“I want you to have it. Please.” His own hand covered Tony’s and the two looked at each other for a long while. Tony nodded once, wiping at his eyes with his free hand, and held the ring tighter, feeling the metal bite into his palm.

“Okay.” He said. “But only because you want me to.”

“Peter, I want you to have my tags.” Peter opened his mouth to argue, but Steve barreled on. “Don’t say no. Please. They’re in mine and dad’s room, on top of our dresser. Dad can get them for you if you need him to. But I want you to have them. Keep them safe.” He paused. “Keep me safe.”

Peter swallowed hard. “Okay. I will.”

* * *

 

Tony got a call early the next morning. He hadn’t been asleep. Lately, he rarely ever did.

Steve had died.

Thor pointed Mjolnir towards the sky and made it rain, made it pour, and Tony stood on the balcony of the Tower in it for a little over an hour. He didn’t come inside until Peter came out, draped a towel around his shoulders and led him back indoors. The two snuggled together on the couch in silence and the low light, listening to the storm rage on outside.

Tony didn’t bother turning on any of the televisions, knowing that there were documentaries, if not plans for some, already running and eulogies on Steve’s life.

He knew his husband. He didn’t need anyone telling him what his soul mate’s life and legacy had been.

He knew the real Steve Rogers .

* * *

 

Tony slept on the cot in the lab for the next few nights. His bed was too big and too empty for just himself. When DUM-E whirred over with a blanket in his claw, Tony took it without a smart comment and threw it over himself, crying.

He didn’t go to sleep in his own room, _their_ room, until the end of the week. Everything was the same as the last time Steve had been here, sleeping in their bed. His side mostly made, Tony’s rumpled. That first night, he slept on Steve’s side, his face buried in his husband’s pillow, breathing deeply and trying to make sure that he wasn’t going to forget his scent. That he’d never forget his scent.

That was the one and only time that Tony ever disturbed Steve’s side of the room.

* * *

 

The funeral was small and was a Full Honor military funeral. It was the Avengers, Fury, Pepper, Hill, Coulson, Sam and of course Peter and Tony.

A military chaplain led the honor guards as they carried Steve’s casket, draped with an American flag, to the site of burial. The casket was followed by a rider less horse with Steve’s Captain America boots reversed in the stirrups. Peter squeezed Tony’s hand when he saw them, his other hand in his pocket fingering his father’s dog tags, and Tony squeezed back.

They all took a seat when the casket was securely in place and Tony stood and moved to the podium to speak.

“I’m going to try and keep this short. As you all know, I tend to ramble.” He took a breath and then continued on. “Steve was my best friend and my soul mate, as cheesy as that is to say. It took me forever and a day to realize this, but I’m glad that I realized it when I did. There’s not anyone else in the world who I would want to be married to for the rest of my life. He helped me raise our incredibly talented son Peter, which I’m not sure I would’ve been able to do by myself. He always put everyone else’s needs before his own, which was problematic at times, but this made him perfect for the role of Captain America.” Tony looked down at his finger where his wedding band glinted in the sun, and he closed his hand into a fist. “Steve was the epitome of the All-American man that everyone aspired to be. Hopefully, even without him here to guide us, we can all continue to try and be the best that we can. Because that’s what he would want.”

Tony stepped down and sat back down in his seat between Pepper and Peter, immediately taking both of their hands. The United States Air Force poised in fighter jets flew over in missing man formation. Seven service members stood fifty feet away and fired, with M16 rifles, a 3-volley salute over Steve’s casket. Tony didn’t start crying until after _Taps_ was played by a bugler and all the men present who were currently serving or had served in the US Armed Forces gave a final salute.

At the end of the service, the flag folding ceremony was performed. Tony watched the precision of the men folding, their hands encased in pristine white gloves, and was a bit startled when one came over to him, flag held carefully in his palms and said the following.

“On behalf of the President of the United States, The United States Army, and a grateful nation, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one’s honorable and faithful service.”

Tony, with quivering hands, accepted the flag.

He watched with moist eyes as the casket was lowered into the grave and he said his silent goodbyes to his best friend, his husband, his lover. Steve’s wedding band, that Tony had engraved with _You Are My Shield_ , rested under his shirt, on a thin silver chain, right over his heart.

Well, it would be.

You know, if Tony Stark had a heart.


End file.
